


Tribute

by jessiohhh



Category: Actor RPF, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bryan Shitstain, F/M, M/M, Multi, RPS - Freeform, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-26 04:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17739338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessiohhh/pseuds/jessiohhh
Summary: Queen Tribute Bandthe ad read.Wanted: Drummer, Lead Guitar, Freddie Mercury.An ad goes up on a bulletin board at Berklee College of Music, along with an ad searching for a roommate and one looking for the owner of a lost chicken. Two people respond to the ads, and another person just happens to reunite with the talented composer searching for these three lucky people. A Queen Tribute band is formed, and they have five months to build a Boston fanbase and create a handful of tracks similar enough to Queen's original work for the composer to graduate with his Master's in composition.With life and love getting in the way, and a tragic altercation between a student and his teacher, can the band do it? Can they make the audience think the new music is unreleased tracks from Queen herself and help the composer graduate on top of his class?





	1. Ben

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a multi-chapter fic (unsure of length, but I've about 15k words plotted or written so far) and each chapter is a different character's point of view, but structured in a way so that you hopefully get a full perspective of everything that's happening in everyone's lives. Some sections will only have four chapters, and other sections may have more, depending on what each character's story arc needs. 
> 
> The first eight chapters are:
> 
> Ben  
> Gwilym  
> Joe  
> Rami  
> Gwilym  
> Ben  
> Rami  
> Joe
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

 

**Chapter One:BEN**

 

The ad was big. It was garish. It was written on the most obnoxious florescent yellow paper that was certain to make it stand out among the other plain white copies that covered the homasote board behind it. Along the fringed bottom was a phone number; only one strip had been torn off to the right of center. 

Ben took a step closer. **Queen Tribute Band** the ad read. **Wanted: Drummer, Lead Guitar, Freddie Mercury**. Ben huffed out a little laugh. _Yeah, of course you want Freddie Mercury._ Ben thought as he reached out a hand and fingered the fringed phone numbers. He didn’t take one, and turned away from the board with a shake of his head.

“I’ve got too much else to do…” He told himself, under his breath.

To be fair, this was the third time that Ben had passed by the garish yellow paper that advertised for a Queen tribute band that would work to perform at a student recital in April. It was the second time he’d walked away after contemplating grabbing a strip of paper with that phone number that he was almost certain he had memorized anyway. Two steps away from the board, Ben stopped and hung his head with a sigh.

Queen had always been his favorite band; and Roger Taylor had been the reason he had started drumming in the first place. Taylor’s drum work in “I’m In Love With My Car” had gotten him started when Ben was nine years old, and here he was now, at Berklee, intending to declare percussion as his performance major concentration. So of course he wasn’t going to just walk away a third time. He had come back to this paper time and time again, always still with the singular strip taken off it and none others missing, but still he came back.

Deciding not to think about it any longer, Ben quickly walked back and grabbed a strip of paper with the number on it from the bottom, from right next to the missing piece. He decided he wasn’t going to think about that strip of paper again until after classes had ended. He shoved his hand in his pocket and he marched off to class.

 

 

 

 

Throughout the hour and a half class, the small strip of paper burned in Ben’s pocket. His fingers couldn’t stop rubbing the edge, or pulling it out and folding it up until it resembled the smallest cigarette in the world. Then he’d smooth it out and shove it back in his pocket because he needed to concentrate on the subject at hand; music technology.

It was impossible to concentrate; half of his brain was caught on the idea that maybe they’d go big as a Queen cover band and they’d have to do something daring and romantic like quitting school and traveling the world to share Queen to the masses. Then he’d shut that thought down with the fear that the band already had their drummer and he wouldn’t be needed-because who else had picked up that one phone number. He also daydreamed that the person casting for the band was actually Roger Taylor and he was about to be Punk’d like on that old television show from the early 2000s.

The waiting was torture. He yearned to know exactly who would be at the other end of that phone and if they needed a drummer who was already a big fan of Queen.

Ben flicked the top of his pen repeatedly, much to the annoyance of the students sitting around him. When one of them glared at him, he reluctantly put down the pen and sat back in his chair. His hands were clasped together to prevent him from drumming on the tables and causing more annoyance to his fellow students.

 

 

 

 

 

Once the class let out, Ben raced out of the building and around the corner. Typically, he’d stop to admire some of the scenery on the way, or he’d go out of his way to walk through the Back Bay Fens, but today he was heading straight back to his dorm room. He had to make that phone call. 

He practiced what he’d say; both to someone who was and who wasn’t Roger Taylor. He figured he’d know the sound of Roger Taylor’s voice right away, even if he was being Punk’d. Of course, if anyone were to ask, Ben would have absolutely denied that he was even considering the other person on the end to be anyone other than a fellow Berklee student.

Slamming his dorm room door shut, Ben pulled out his cell phone and that little slip of paper that he’d been fingering throughout class. A couple of the numbers were now a little smudged, but Ben knew he had memorized the number from the various times he’d visited that flier hung up in the common area.

He hummed a couple of times before dialing the number to warm up his vocal cords since he hadn’t spoken at all during class. The line on the other end rang through.

Ben could feel how anxious he was as he made the call. He had never liked speaking on the phone, but he’d do it when it was necessary. Somehow, he wished that the flier had included an email address, just so maybe he wouldn’t embarrass himself as he was sure he would.

His palms were starting to sweat a bit when he dialed the number and lifted his phone to his ear. His mouth was going dry as well, which was a complete bitch as he’d be talking in just a moment. He chanced grabbing a sip of water before the call connected.

“He-hello?!” The voice on the other end of the line said enthusiastically. The voice was out of breath, like he had sprinted to come pick up the phone. The voice was disappointingly not British in any way.

“Hello?” The voice said again, as Ben struggled to swallow his water and speak at the same time.

“Ah, yes.” Water trickled out of his mouth and made him stutter a bit. “Um, I’m calling about the flier?”

“Oh! Which one?”

“How many fliers do you have up?” Ben said, slightly bewildered. “Er, I mean, sorry that was rude. I’m calling about the Queen tribute band flier.”

"Ah! Cool! Yeah, I have like three different fliers up right now; one’s obviously the Queen one, but I’m also trying to get a sublet for my roommate’s room, and I’m trying to find the owner of this lost chicken that’s been living in my basement for the last two weeks. The thing’s freaking adorable, man, but I’m not supposed to keep pets here. And can you really classify a chicken as a pet? It’s a fucking barnyard animal.”

“And how’s the roommate search going?” Ben asked, somewhat sarcastically, because it was incredibly obvious that the man on the other end of the line had an abundance of energy, and Ben knew it could be hard to find a roommate who understood that level of energy.

“Eh, I’ve not had much luck yet.” The man said, not catching on to the fact that Ben was being sarcastic. “You wouldn’t happen to need a new place to live, too, would you?”

Ben laughed, “Smooth. No, I’m in the dorms on campus.”

“Berklee?” The man asked.

“Yeah. That’s where the flier was.”

“I put up a few at Emerson and Boston University, too. I don’t care who I play with, I just want to get a good band together. You didn’t mention what you play.”

“I play drums.” Ben said.

“Ah, cool. Cool. Have you played any Queen songs before?”

“A few.”

“You’re a man of few words. What songs are you familiar with and which ones do you have a passing ability to play?”

Ben frowned at the slight he perceived from the other man. Sure, he didn’t talk much compared to this guy, but at least he knew when what he said was rude. This man didn’t seem to have a clue.

“I mean, I don’t have their whole discography memorized, but I can play my fair share.” Truth was, Ben only knew two or three of the songs without a music sheet in front of him, but he wasn’t about to ruin his chances in playing with a real band simply because he didn’t have the songs memorized. “Urm, I suppose my favorites are “I Want to Break Free” and…” Shit he had to choose something more difficult than “I Want To Break Free”. He wracked his brain for something more difficult to drum. “Uh, “Tie Your Mother Down”.”

“Wow!” The man on the other end said, “You like playing “Tie Your Mother Down”? That one’s pretty challenging in general, but it’s pretty tough on the drums. Do you want to come audition? I’d love to hear what you’ve got, Mr. British Man.”

Ben blushed on the other end of the line, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure, that sounds great. When?”

“How’s tomorrow around three?”

“That works.” Ben said, writing himself a note about the appointment. “Where are we auditioning?”

“I’ll book a room in Allston. If you take the green line to Packard’s Corner, you’ll be able to get there easily enough.” The man on the other end said. “Oh! By the way!” He had just remembered. “I’m Joe. I’ll reserve it under my name, but I’ll put your name on the sheet too.” He paused for just a second. “What’s your name?”

“Ben.” He said with a little nervous laugh. “I’m Ben Hardy.”

“Joe Mazzello.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at three at the Allston studios, Joe.” Ben said softly.

“See you then, Big Ben.”

With a quick departure, Ben pocketed his phone and quirked a small smile at the empty room. He had a band audition. Just as quickly as his smile came, it dropped. He had a band audition tomorrow and the guy thought he’d be able to play Tie Your Mother Down with a handful of other songs. Shit. He needed to practice. 

Ben picked up his drumsticks and his backpack and headed over to his favorite practice studio. It was near to his dorm, and it offered one of the best electronic drum kits that Ben had ever had the chance to play. No, it wasn’t the same as an acoustic drum kit, but the Roland that the school purchased for students to practice on was one of the best models in the world. Ben had looked into purchasing his own kit at one point, and the price for this model was upwards of £3000. Too much for Ben to spend on his own equipment now, but he intended to save up for it as he worked his way through school.

 

 

 

 

 

Nearly three hours later Ben had managed to learn two new songs. Tie Your Mother Down was one of them. Crazy Little Thing Called Love was the other. Tie Your Mother Down was a lot harder than Ben remembered from the countless times he had listened to the song throughout his life; Crazy Little Thing was about as he expected. 

A knock came at the door, and a fellow student popped her head in.

“Hey, Ben.” She smiled politely, “Another student is here for her practice time. You finished?”

It was policy that they could only book the studio for an hour at a time, and Ben had been lucky enough that no one had come to practice for the three hours that he had been intently focused on learning the new songs. It was polite of the girl to ask, because really she could have kicked him out two hours ago.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben said, wiping his brow and wiping down the stool and drum kit to remove his sweat. “Thanks for letting me stay so long.”

“Of course!” She said as she held the door open for him to exit. The other student was waiting quite patiently in the hallway. Ben smiled and held the door open so that she could enter.

Ben followed the other student down the hallway and out the door. He waved a quick goodbye and pulled his phone out of his pocket both to check the time and to see if he had any missed calls or texts.

One missed call from Lucy, as well as a couple texts. Ben smiled and opened up the text messages to read what she’d sent him.

 

Lucy 6:13 p.m.: Dinner tonight?

 

Lucy 6:27 p.m.:

 

Lucy 6:55 p.m.:  😿 You’re practicing aren’t you? You’ll never see these. I’ll die of starvation long before I see you again. Goodbye, my love. I shall perish knowing I’ll never see your beautiful blue eyes again. 

 

Ben: 7:00 p.m.: Well, don’t go dying on my account. Have you eaten in the last five minutes?

 

Lucy 7:00 p.m.: No! I’m walking to the dining hall though and I swear I could eat a horse between two bread vans. 

 

Ben 7:01 p.m.: I’ll meet you there.

 

Lucy 7:01 p.m.: See you there, my little cabbage.

 

 

Ben pocketed his phone once more as he ran off to meet Lucy in the dining hall. Had they met in England, Ben was fairly certain that they wouldn’t truly be friends. Lucy was petit and beautiful; almost elfin in her looks. Ben did consider himself good looking, but he wasn’t quite as proper as Lucy tended to be. She was also two years younger, and back in England Ben wasn’t one who hung out with students who were younger. He’d be the first to admit that he was a bit snobbish when it came to other students. Here in America, though, it was rare enough to meet another English person, so when he did he quickly became friends with them. It was fortunate that Lucy wanted to be friends, too.

“My little buttercup!” He heard before he saw her in the canteen. Ben smiled and turned to spot her coming towards him with her arms outstretched. He braced for her impact but was still rocked when she slammed into him with a giant hug that didn’t seem possible for someone of her stature. 

Most of her endearments were simply exaggerated greetings. She called Ben her little something-or-other so often that Ben was trying to mentally catalogue all of the different ones, especially when she was calling him something new. Sugar dumpling was so far his favorite combination of pet names from her.

“Come,” she said with a smile. “I’m starving and I want to hear about your day.”

Ben let her pull him across the canteen to find what food they’d be eating for dinner. As they picked up food and paid for it, Ben talked about the classes he was taking, and he heard about her musical theater class as well. It wasn’t until they sat down that he shared about the audition he had tomorrow.

Lucy couldn’t stop bouncing in her seat when she heard. “Tell me more!” She cried. “What kind of band is it?”

“Uh, so… It’s a Queen tribute band.”

“Like… Queen Queen? Freddie Mercury Queen?”

Ben nodded, “Yeah. The flier said they wanted a Freddie Mercury, so I’m not sure how serious this will be, but it could be fun.” He shrugged, “And a good way to practice some really complicated drumming.”

“That is true.” Lucy said with a nod. “I do hope you have fun, darling, and that you get the spot!”

Ben reached his hand across the table and gave hers a little squeeze. “Thanks, babe.” He smirked.

 

  



	2. Gwilym

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day! With this chapter I'm bringing you lovely Gwilym for his first chapter out of the gate. 
> 
> Thank you to all who've left a kudo or comment. It thrills me to know what you've enjoyed with the first chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one!

**Chapter Two: GWILYM**

Looking around the classroom, Gwil couldn’t help but smile softly. The children were all sitting serenely on their caregiver’s lap, or sprawled out on the floor in their most comfortable position. The parents themselves even looked as relaxed as they possibly could be. Gwil himself was feeling quite calm in that moment, even though things in his life were justifiably not calm-inducing in his life, but in the moment he did truly feel calm.

“This is where I have to sing our goodbye song,” Gwil said, his voice honoring the sadness he felt, and that he knew his students felt as well at having to end today’s class. The parents themselves even looked a little disappointed that their 45-minute music class was over.

“Will you join me in singing our goodbye song?” He asked, knowing full well that it would largely be the parents singing with him than the children, but that was just fine as well.

“So long, farewell to you my friends.” Gwil sang, playing the chords on his guitar. Predictably, the parents joined in. “Goodbye for now, until we meet again. I said, so long, fair well to you my friends. Goodbye for now, until we meet again.

“It’s been great to play and sing together, but now it’s time to say goodbye. So long, fair well, to you my friends. Goodbye for now, until we meet again.” Gwil strummed his guitar for a little longer, and then he packed his guitar away before turning once more to the families sitting on the floor with him. 

“Have a great week,” he shared with them in his proper London accent.

A few parents stuck around to talk and converse as Gwil was putting away his materials so the space was clean and clear for the next class, and he made sure to wish them a good afternoon as he stepped outside of the open classroom.

As far as teaching music for young children with disabilities, Gwilym thought he was doing quite well. His professors had stepped in from time to time to watch how classes were going, and the evaluations the parents filled out were always glowing. This part of Gwil’s life was easy—the rest of it… not so much.

Once Gwil was back in the prep room for the student teachers, Gwil opened his laptop and checked his emails. Looking for an apartment outside of the September cycle was proving to be incredibly difficult. Everything nearby seemed to be snatched up well before August, and now that they were halfway into October, Gwil just couldn’t seem to find anything that was both in his price point and his ideal distance from school (not to mention clean and with a somewhat sane roommate at the very least).

He sighed when he read that one of the places he had sent an application to the night before had already signed a tenant for the remainder of the year. The place he lived wasn’t incredibly awful. By far, Gwil had lived in some far shittier places; but his relationship with the man he had moved in with was deteriorating, and quickly.

Gwil was such a passive creature, and the man—who had at one point been a close friend—seemed to be on such a destructive path that Gwil could hardly stand living in his own apartment any longer. With the stress of graduate school and attempting to find a job that paid anything to a student on a visa, stress was all that Gwil was feeling anymore.

He couldn’t live like that. Not when it woke him up and choked him with something akin to heartburn every night, and especially not when so much was riding on his success in graduate school.

Gwil shut his computer with a sigh, and decided to make his way down the hall to one of the common areas to do some work.

He passed the homasote board on the wall outside one of the small study rooms and noticed a new flier on the board. **DID YOU LOSE A CHICKEN?** Gwil paused and frowned for just a moment and took a look at the flier. With a laugh, he read the flier in it’s entirety and realized that someone had indeed lost a chicken somewhere in Boston, and it was living at the flier maker’s house.

He lifted the flier when he noticed a word he’d been looking for for quite some time on the paper underneath the chicken flier. **Roommate Wanted**. The place was a two-bedroom apartment in Allston, not far from one of the practice studios and not far from Boston University. Gwil grabbed a strip of paper with the roommate’s number and took it with him as he made his way to the study lounge.

It took him no time to set his things down and make the call.

 

“Hello?” The person on the other end said. “You here with a delivery?”

“Uh… No?” Gwil said, confused. “No. I’m calling about the room for rent?”

“Oh! Oh sorry. I thought you might be my PostMate’s order. Yeah! You got the right number. Damn, you’re the second Brit I’ve talked to today. Where’s the chance in that?”

“Uh…”

“Right, sorry. The room. So, yeah, It’s pretty big. My roommate is moving out this weekend actually and we need someone to sublet for the remainder of the year. When are you hoping to move?”

“As soon as possible, actually.” Gwil said, sighing.

“Ah, perfect. We’ll have the place cleaned out by Sunday if that works for you to move in then. Of course, that’s presuming that you like it and that you’d be fine moving here. Are you in school?”

“Yes, graduate school at Berklee. I’m studying music education with a concentration in Autism Studies.”

“Ah! Cool. I’m at Berklee too.” The man on the other end said.

“What are you studying?”

“I’m getting my masters in music composition, but my favorite instrument is, by far, the bass. What do you play?”

“Mostly guitar.” Gwil said, “Some piano, but I’m not as good with the piano as I am with the guitar.”

“Well, that’s great. Maybe we can jam sometimes if you move in.”

“Yeah, I’d be okay with that.”

“Why don’t you come by today and take a look at the place? I’m in the big building on Linden street. When you get here, shoot me a text and I’ll meet you and let you in.”

“Okay. I could probably be there in about forty-five minutes.” Gwil said, looking up the address on his computer. It was on the green line, but the green line was notoriously slow. Especially on Red Sox game nights.

“That sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Bye!”

The man on the other end closed out of the call quickly, and Gwil looked around for a moment completely unsure on if this was a good idea or not. The address was still pulled up on his computer, so he did a quick search to make sure the area was relatively safe and that there hadn’t been any recent murders in the area.

“Well, I suppose I’ll give it a go.” He said to himself when he couldn’t find anything incriminating in his google search.

 

 

 

Gwil tapped his watch impatiently as the train car sat idle at Kenmore. Red Sox fans filed in and out, and the platform was packed. Gwil had been sitting here the last five minutes, and he was inching towards being more than fifteen minutes late if this train never got a move on. 

“Attention passengers,” the conductor said into the loud speaker. “This train will be delayed because of an earlier delay…” Gwil stopped listening and stood up, easily towering over most of the other passengers.

He pushed his way out of the open train doors and made his way up to the bus terminal where he sat in wait with many other put-out passengers waiting for a bus. He sent a message to the man he was going to meet—he realized he hadn’t caught his name on the phone earlier—and let him know that because of the game and the earlier delay, he’d be coming on the next bus to Allston.

When the 57 bus came, Gwil crowded on with all of the other passengers, and watched as the many stops passed and more and more people tried to cram into what little space there was on the bus. There was barely enough room to breathe, and because he was perhaps the tallest person on the bus it felt like everyone was standing in his armpits.

Finally, the Linden stop came, and Gwil hopped out in front of a little Superette. If he had been unsure of the commute to the apartment, the Superette was helpful in convincing him toward the place. If he needed milk when a Nor’easter happened to snow him in, at least he’d be able to grab necessities without having to walk all the way to the nearest supermarket.

It was easy to locate the apartment; the buzzer read Mazzello and Leech. Gwil wondered if he’d be meeting Mazzello or Leech today.

With a press of the buzzer, Gwil was let into the apartment, and he made his way up a single flight of stairs and to the door at the end of the hall.

A short red-head guy was standing there waiting with a big smile on his face. Gwil was startled into smiling back because he simply seemed like a slightly goofy character, what with giant bunny slippers on his feet and a cozy maroon sweater over a pair of gym shorts. 

“Hey!” He greeted. “Here to see the apartment right?”

Gwil nodded, “Yeah. I’m Gwilym.” He stuck out his hand to reach for the other’s as he approached.

“Joe.” He said welcoming him in. “Joe Mazzello.” Joe ushered Gwil into the house and showed him the small apartment. It really wasn’t that big; two bedrooms, one bath, a decently sized living room separating the two bedrooms and a long galley kitchen. The tour took all of five minutes.

“You said your roommate is moving out this weekend?” Gwil asked, looking around the small bedroom.

“Yeah. Allen is getting married and they decided to move in together. He’s a great roommate, but it’s probably for the best that he move in with the person he’s going to marry.” Joe smiled.

“So… I’m interested, but is there anything you want to know about me or anything I should know about you?”

Joe stretched out his arms with a smile and said, “I’m an open book! Feel free to ask me anything! Uh, but the only kind of weird things about me…” He pressed his lips together and thought for a second. “Well, sometimes I’m not the best sleeper so I wander around a bit when I’m really tired or trying to think. And I think that’s really it. I’m sure Allen would tell you other things about me that I’m not thinking of at the moment.”

Gwil nodded. “I’m not always a great sleeper either. I tend to play my guitar when I can’t sleep though.”

“Oh! I wanted to ask. What kind of music do you play? I know you play the guitar and a little piano, but what style? Jazz? Rock?”

“Oh, mostly kids tunes at the moment.” Gwil chuckled. “But I have a good background in both rock and jazz. I have an acoustic guitar and an electric guitar. I play my acoustic when I can’t sleep though, don’t worry.”

Joe shook his head. “I’m not worried. You can play whatever, whenever. I only ask cause I’m working to set up a band, and I’m in need of some musicians, and if you’re living here and if you want to join, you totally should.”

Gwil pulled the corners of his lips down and shot his eyebrows up in a considering frown. He’d not been in a band since he was sixteen or so. He’d done his fair share of playing at cafes and whatnot, but he hadn’t been in an actual band.

“I have a drummer coming for an audition tomorrow; oh and the practice studios are only a couple blocks away on Fordham Road! Another benefit of living here.”

Joe looked a little apprehensive, so Gwil gave a little appreciative nod. “That sounds awesome. I’ve not been in a band in ages. Are you composing the music?” He recalled that Joe had told him about his Masters in music composition.

“A few songs,” he said. “But mainly it’s a tribute band to Queen.”

A look of surprise crossed Gwil’s face. Queen was one of his favorite bands. “Ah! That’s brilliant!” He exclaimed. “I love Queen! Not just because they’re British music royalty either. Any band that can write arena rock on one hand and sci-fi ballads on another is a perfect band in my book.”

“Question of the day: What’s your favorite Queen song?”

“Question two: Is there a favorite Queen song?” Gwil shot back. “All Queen songs are pretty much favorites. But if you’re asking which ones I could play without practicing for a month— ’39 would be one of the first ones. Love of my Life is doable. If I gave myself time to practice, I’d love to learn Keep Yourself Alive.”

Joe smiled and nodded. “I’ll accept that answer. You should consider joining the band. And if you want to move in, I’ll make you a copy of the keys.”

Gwilym smiled and stuck out his hand to shake on it. Then and there he gave Joe his first and last month’s rent, and said he’d have the security deposit covered by Sunday when he moved in.

Things were certainly looking up for one Gwilym Lee.


	3. Joe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it's time for Joe and Rami. 
> 
> I'd love to hear what you all are thinking as you read (even if it's constructive), as I hope to develop my writing skills further and want to know what readers are liking and enjoying!
> 
> Additionally, I'm about 22k words in now, and I can't wait for everyone to see where things are going.

**Chapter Three: JOE**

He couldn’t tell if it was the three cups of coffee he’d had in the last two hours, or if it was anxiety creeping back in, but something in him was simply thrumming. Standing up, Joe walked two laps around the apartment before he sat back down at his desk and attempted to continue composing something— _anything_ —that didn’t sound anything like someone taking a shit.

“Maybe I _should_ just compose someone taking a shit.” He said to himself as he turned his keyboard on to a horn sample and made the computer sound like someone farting to Chopin. Then he did the sound of farting to the opening of Bach’s Fifth. He giggled to himself and shut down the keyboard. It was very obvious that nothing was going to come from this morning’s composition work.

Joe was simply too excited; there was a real chance that he’d be meeting the drummer for his Queen tribute band and while it was awful that Allen was moving out, the new roommate moving in could potentially be the lead guitarist he was looking for as well. All that was left was to find his Freddie.

He got up and put his running shoes on; Joe wasn’t someone who ran for exercise, he was one of those people who ran because everything inside him was moving so fast that he needed to catch up with it. He had a good hour and a half before he was meeting up with Ben at the studio, so he thought he’d go for a run and settle down.

It was a warmer day for October in New England, so Joe ran out of the building with just his keys, ten bucks, and his running shoes. He took off south, toward the green line trains and made his way over to Brighton Ave and around the shopping area in the main square of Allston.

Allston was, in some ways, beautiful. Murals covered the sides of buildings; one of his favorites was across from the Regina Pizzeria where it looked like people were looking out windows at all hours of the day, billboards were always up, usually advertising the radio stations that played in the area, and the people—the people were a beautifully diverse crowd who frequented the shops in the area. There were a lot of Korean students who studied at Boston College or Boston University since both were on the same train line, but there were also a lot of Russians and Italians and Irish immigrants living in the area. With his Irish looks and family ancestry Joe fit in well.

Joe ran past one of his favorite coffee shops; it served beer as well, and often would have students studying at all hours. He ran past Brighton Music Hall and down toward the park. Idly, he dreamed about one day playing at Brighton Music Hall and selling out the show; it would be the dream.

Then there was the part of Allston that wasn’t quite beautiful. Along the route he took down the more populated areas around the intersection of Harvard Ave and Brighton Ave, graffiti on the wall pointed out Allston’s nickname. Rat City. Fortunately, Joe had so far avoided the rats on this run, but it was the middle of the day, so that was most helpful.

Once, Joe had been running in the evening and two young rats had been chasing each other out of an alley. The first rat ran directly into Joe’s foot, and Joe was certain he wouldn’t stop screaming for a month. The shower he took that night was the longest he’d taken in years, anyway.

Thankfully, he’d not seen a rat yet. But he also wasn’t looking that closely to find any of them.

Joe made his way through the park, and came out on the other side of the neighborhood, and made his way back around the block. He hadn’t really planned to get another coffee, but it was a beautiful day and he still had another thirty minutes left before he needed to meet up with Ben for the audition, so he thought he’d take a detour to that cafe that served beer for a refresher before heading back to his apartment to grab his bass.

The place was predictably packed as it usually was on any weekday morning. Joe made his way to the line, and since he already knew what he wanted he spent his time observing the locals.

The windows opened up on the dining side to make it seem like you were out on a patio. Joe could feel the crisp October air on his back, and knew that it wouldn’t be long before nearly everything in Boston would be shut up for the winter. The tables were all two-seaters, but some larger parties of four and five had pulled some tables together to all be able to sit together. Along the back wall was a bench, and this is where a lot of students were sitting, mainly because there was a power outlet between most tables that they could plug their laptop cords in.

At the counter there were a few seats as well, and a water pitcher for those who had beer or coffee and didn’t want to buy a bottle of water. Food would come up to the counter, and the barista would call out a name so the patron could come and grab it.

Back in the corner was a man on his computer. The dark brown hair that fell in soft curls atop his head struck him as instantly familiar, especially with that tawny beige skin. When the name hit him, Joe shook his head in surprise. _Rami fuckin’ Malek._

“Holy shit.” Joe said, under his breath. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

Joe placed his order—shoestring fries and a beer—and made his way over to the corner where Rami was sitting.

“Rami?” Joe asked, softer than he intended.

Instantly, green eyes looked up at Joe with surprise, and then they relaxed as the man smiled.

“Joe.” He would have heard the smile in Rami’s voice even if he hadn’t been looking at the man. He was so familiar with that smile on his voice that it tugged a note of nostalgia in his chest.

Joe sat down in the chair across from Rami. “What are you doing here?! Last I heard you were out in Indiana doing some musical theater school, or something.”

“I came here for graduate school.” The smile never left either man’s face.

“Wow. That’s fucking amazing. Where are you at school?”

“Berklee.” Rami’s smile widened with pride.

“Shut the fuck up.” Joe gasped. “ _I’m_ at Berklee! I’m in the composition program! What are you studying?”

“You’re at Berklee too?! That’s incredible. How have we not run into each other yet? I’m studying Vocal Pedagogy.” Rami said. “It’s a bit of a mix between Speech-Language Pathology and singing. It’s interesting so far.”

“Shit, that’s so amazing! God, it’s been—what—five years?”

“Since we last saw each other in New York? Yeah, something like that, I think.”

The last time they had seen each other had been at Christmas in 2013. Rami and Joe had been home visiting family, and the two had made a point in spending time together during that break. Not long after, Rami’s family moved to California for his father’s business. Rami wasn’t someone who was on facebook, so Joe hadn’t really been able to keep up with the other man’s whereabouts.

“Fucking hell. Are you living here, then? In Allston?”

“Yes.” Rami said softly, still smiling. “I actually live around the corner on Cambridge Ave.”

Joe pounded the table in excitement. “I live around the corner too!” He shouted.

“JOE!” The barista shouted, and Joe jumped, feeling like he was being scolded by his mother for being too loud again.

“I’ll be right back, if that’s okay?” Joe asked, hopeful.

“Yeah, I’ll be here for a little longer.” Rami was still smiling, and looking at Joe like he received the best early Christmas gift ever.

Joe tapped the table with his hand and grinned. “Great, I’ll be right back.”

Rami closed up his laptop and Joe raced off to grab his beer and fries. From where he was standing, Joe could see the methodical movements Rami always had when putting his things away; it was if he were thanking his items for their use and carefully tending to them as he finished putting them away. Sami, Rami’s twin brother, and Joe had been total opposites when it came to putting things away—often they just didn’t.

Joe smiled as he came back over, bearing a large plate of shoestring fries. He honestly thought that they were the best fries on this side of town. Of course, everyone always thought he ruined them by putting ketchup straight on the fries, rather than off to the side to dip.

“Fry?” Joe offered as he sat down and took a sip of his beer. Rami politely shook his head and took a sip of his chai latte.

“Tell me what you’ve been doing, Joe.” Rami said with a smile. “I didn’t realize you’d moved out here to Boston. I tried to keep up to date, but almost everyone I knew in our old neighborhood has moved out, or changed phone numbers or something. I nearly gave in and got a Facebook just to find people.”

“Well, you should still get on Facebook,” Joe said with a laugh. “It’s about the only way I keep in touch with people anymore. I went to The New School of Jazz in New York City and studied bass, and then came out here for composition.”

“Have you been playing in any more bands?”

Joe laughed, remembering the time that he, Rami and Sami tried to make up a rock band, and didn’t get too far with it. The smile on Rami’s face had shifted to a teasing one as well, so Joe knew that he must be remembering their short lived teenage band experience.

“Actually, yeah.” Joe said with a proud smile. “Well, I mean, I’m not in one currently, but I have an audition for a drummer in a little while. I’m hoping he’ll be good. And then I’m planning to rope my new roommate into playing as well. Hey, if you’re looking for a band—” Joe smiled.

“I’ll keep an open mind.” Rami non-committed.

Joe didn’t push, because he didn’t think Rami would actually be interested in joining in a Queen tribute band—he really needed to come up with a name for it instead of just calling it the Queen tribute band.

“What have you been doing? How did you wind up out here?”

“Well, I went to Indiana and studied there, and did a lot with the musical theater program. I just realized that there’s not a ton of money in being an actor, so I decided to get a degree in vocal pedagogy so I can perhaps teach actors how to sing or talk differently to protect or grow their voice.” Rami shrugged a bit. “I find it interesting, at least, even if it’s not as exciting as being up on stage every night.”

Joe nodded. They talked and laughed, and shared memories about friends they had in school. Before he knew it, Joe was telling Rami he had to go or he’d be late to meet the drummer he was talking about.

“Hey, if you’re not doing anything, you should come with me.” Joe said. “It shouldn’t be that long anyway.”

Rami considered it and he nodded. “Yeah, it would give me something to do; besides, it’s not like I’ve got a ton of friends here. It’ll be nice to spend more time with an old one.”

Joe grinned, and the two took off to Joe’s apartment to grab his bass before going to meet Ben.

 

 

 

The walk from Joe’s apartment to the practice studio took no more than five minutes. It felt even shorter as Rami and Joe continued to talk and reminisce. The practice studio was down a little side street that seemed like it went to nowhere. Right along the sidewalk was a building that looked vaguely warehouse-ish and like nothing magical was inside. However, inside was three modestly sized studio spaces, and ten rooms that could house a band of ten members. All were equipped with pianos, amps for guitars and bass, drum kits with cymbals and other various odds and ends for all of the different types of music that could possibly happen in the world. 

The thing that Joe loved about Berklee is that if you wanted it, it was likely that Berklee had it. Xylophones and Marimbas? Berklee had it. Steelpan drums? Berklee had it. The latest and greatest electric instruments? Berklee had it. Berklee was a wealth of musical knowledge, and they allowed much exploration when it came down to studying music and how it was made.

Joe and Rami were in the midst of a laugh when they entered the building. If pressed for his life, Joe would never be able to tell anyone what it was he was laughing about because as soon as he spotted the man on the bench everything rushed out of his mind, leaving him standing there with a stupid look upon his face.

Joe was a hopeless romantic, and he would easily tell anyone who asked, and often those who didn’t, that he’d fallen in love about a million times a week. Someone on the T was reading Russian Literature? Joe was helplessly in love. This guy who knocked elbows with him while walking past Fenway had on his _favorite_ shade of blue? Joe was heartbrokenly in love. He locked eyes with someone as they both groaned about something someone was doing in public? Obviously, it’s love at first sight.

But there on the bench sat the most handsome man… boy… that Joe had ever seen. Hair as bright as sunlight, face round and full of life and hope, and not jaded by the horrors living in Rat City evoked. If asked, Joe would say that time stopped, and the sun tilted just right to illuminate the young man sitting on the bench as if he were sitting directly in a spotlight. His heart thudded in his chest, slowly, as he saw this angel for the first time.

It would be highly likely that Rami would say something different; like that Joe froze in his tracks and whispered a soft “Jesus” as he stared at the plain looking kid with holes in his shoes and dirt under his nails. Nobody asked Rami about that moment. At least, Joe never would.

While Joe stood there with his feet tripping over his jaw that had slid open under him, the blond on the couch stood up.

“Er… Are you Joe?”

The accent tumbled so flawlessly out of his perfect lips, and Joe could do nothing but stammer.

You know that Bugs Bunny cartoon where Bugs sees Lola for the first time, and his eyes are nothing but heart eyes bulging off his face? That was Joe as he looked at Ben for the first time.

Rami elbowed the red head and he coughed. “Uh, yes. Yes. I’m Joe.” He stammered and then went out to shake his hand.

The blond’s hand was warm and calloused. Joe took a step closer to the man and took a deep breath as he smiled. Joe could smell the younger man’s soap; sharp and musky with a hint of familiarity. He wasn’t able to place the scent, but it made him want to hold Ben close and drink his smell in.

“You must be Ben. Uh…” He found it hard to let go of Ben’s hand, but finally remembered he wasn’t there alone. “This is my friend Rami. So yeah! Let’s go audition.”

He felt awkward leading the other men to the studio space—he felt like he wasn’t quite adequate to lead this group, but it was his degree riding on the outcome. If this band didn’t succeed, and if he didn’t write some new “inspired by Queen” songs, he wouldn’t graduate.

Ben, Rami and Joe went into the reserved studio space, and Joe set about plugging in his base and focusing on the task at hand, not his nerves in the moment. Ben inspected the drums and brushed his hands over the drum kit with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve used a real acoustic drum kit.”

“Has it?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, over by the dorms is a studio with a great electric drum kit… for the space really.” Ben said, as he sat down on the stool. “I’m gonna warm up real fast if that’s okay.”

Joe nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do the same.”

Rami sat perched on the stool in front of the piano as he watched Joe and Ben interact. He had a smile on his face as he watched Joe and Ben prepare to play.

Joe’s focus was on Ben’s warm up, even though he should have been paying more attention to tuning his bass and making sure it was set up and ready to go. The drumming was loud, fast, and seemed to roll through his body. Joe added his own noise to the mix, not even attempting to match Ben’s sound, and slowly, they wound down together, ready to start the audition.

“Alright, so you said you were familiar with ‘Tie Your Mother Down’?” Joe asked, turning to Ben.

Ben nodded, “Yeah, why don’t we start with that?”

Joe nodded and motioned for Ben to start the count. “One, Two, One, Two, Three, Four.”

Tie your mother down started with a hit on the gong, and then a short guitar solo, but since there wasn’t anyone playing a guitar Ben came right in a couple bars in and started right off with a loud hit on the cymbals and Joe followed right along with him.

In all honesty, the song would have been better if there had been a guitar, but it sounded great with just the deep hum of the bass guitar Joe was playing. Joe couldn’t help but look up and watch Ben as he was playing. Ben’s face held this intense look as he banged away at the instrument. His mouth moved as he counted the beats in his head, and focused on his arms and legs flying in the right direction as he went all in on this tricky piece of music.

The bass run was one of his favorites in the Queen archives for Joe. It was quick and packed a fat punch that thrilled Joe to play as much as some of the more famous runs like “Under Pressure” or “Another One Bites The Dust”. Joe began to dance as he was playing—mostly a two step number like John Deacon had done, but he was really getting into it for the three minutes they played together. He was laughing by the time they finished.

“Yeah! That was great.” Joe beamed and looked back at Rami who was smiling and nodding.

Ben looked at Rami and pointed his drumstick at him. “So is this guy gonna play with us or what?”

Joe turned to Rami who looked at Ben with surprise in his eyes. “Oh, I’m not with the band. I’m just… here.”

Ben frowned and shrugged, twirling his drumstick as if he didn’t care. “Cheers. Alright, well. Joe, what’s next then?”

Joe was still thrown off by the weird little interaction between Ben and Rami, but he shook his head and thought for a second about what song they should do next. He half-heartedly thought about asking Ben to do the drum solo from “Keep Yourself Alive,” but he thought that might be a little mean.

“Let’s go with something a little more mainstream.” Joe said, “Why don’t we hit ‘You’re My Best Friend’ and see what happens.”

Ben nodded and counted them off. Joe jumped right in with the familiar bass line. His head nodded to the beat Ben was playing for them, and right before they got to the part where the first chorus would end, the keys to the piano began to twinkle in with the sound.

Joe and Ben both stuttered in their playing, not having expected Rami to jump into the song where they were. Ben’s rhythm faltered, though Joe faired just a little better in maintaining the rhythm.

“Keep up, boys!” Rami shouted, waiting for Ben and Joe to join him again with the music. Then, Rami started singing over the music in the studio.

Joe shouted triumphantly as Rami sang the song similarly to the way that Freddie Mercury would have sung. Rami’s voice was a little different, of course, but holy shit could he hit those notes that Joe couldn’t even hit.

“Holy shit!” Joe exclaimed, gently setting his bass down in the holder once they finished the song. “HOLY SHIT! What was that?!” He jumped excitedly. “DID YOU BOTH HEAR THAT?! That was so good!”

Ben smiled as he watched Joe leap into the air and nearly over the piano. He looked up with a little smirk at the dark haired man, “I thought you were just ‘here’, mate.”

“It was too good to pass up.” Rami said shyly, looking at Joe with a bit of a bashful look.

Joe ran over to Rami and grabbed his shoulders. “It was too good!” He gave Rami a little shake. “That was the best. I can’t believe that happened. Damn.”

He could feel his eyes beaming at the blond and the brunette. There was nothing he wanted more than to have Ben and Rami playing with him as he worked on creating a tribute show and composing several new songs that held a similar feel to Queen’s work. He’d be thrilled to play among these two talented men for as long as they would play with him.

“Guys. I want you both in this band. Will you do it?”

Ben twirled his drumstick between his fingers again and nodded his head slightly, “Yeah, alright.”

Joe turned his attention to Rami who smiled meekly and gave a soft little nod. “I suppose it would be fun.”

“YES!” Joe shouted again. “YES! Let’s do this! One more song before we have to give up this session?”

Ben sat a little straighter at his drum kit, and Rami sat back down at the piano.

“I know which one we should do.” Ben said, starting a very familiar beat, but not committing to the song yet.

Joe grinned and nodded. “On four. You in this one Rami?”

Rami nodded. “Count me in.”

The bass jumped. The piano and drums did too. The three of them began to harmonize easily to ‘Under Pressure.’ The smiles never once left their faces.


	4. Rami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces Rami a bit more, but it also introduces one of the main antagonists of the story--Bryan Singer. My opinion of Bryan Singer is incredibly low--there had been many reports of his assault and harassment of young (and gay) men as far back as the early 90's and it wasn't until he was fired from BoRhap that I was able to consider going to see this movie, even though I had been a huge fan of Joe's since I was about 10 (Simon Birch made me a fan for life--if you haven't seen Simon Birch, do, and be prepared to soooob). I'm still endlessly frustrated that ANY money will be lining Singer's pockets from this project, but I'm not going to get into my movie viewing ethics at this point.
> 
> That being said, over the last several weeks Rami and Joe have both made comments that make me question whether there was more to Bryan Singer's firing than "not showing up to work". When Rami shared that they had reported him early in the shoot for throwing electrical equipment (at Rami?) during a scene when he was upset, it made me wonder if there was perhaps more to the story--and it made me wonder if there was further harassment from him on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody. 
> 
> That being said, Bryan Singer is not shown in a positive light in this story--but for legal reasons I have to state that this story is fictional and that anything written herein is absolutely not fact. The Bryan Singer in this story is only a fictional representation of many others who DO abuse their power to gain access to young men and women who feel they haven't the power to stand up and protect themselves from abuse. "Bryan Singer" in this story is only a character loosely based upon the real person.
> 
> If you or others are in a similar situation to Rami in this story, there is help; if you report someone's harassment of you (whether you're in school or at a workplace) you will be believed. If you feel like you need additional support the RAINN hotline number is 800.656.HOPE (4673).

**Chapter Four: RAMI**

 

Under his breath he hummed one of the tunes he’d been practicing with Ben and Joe the night before. His fingers ached to touch the keys once more, simply because time with the two other men had been fun; and in Rami’s world music should be fun. A slight smile played on his lips as he recalled one of Ben’s dry remarks and Joe’s loud guffaw. 

“Something funny, Malek?” The professor said, calling him out from his daydreams. Dr. Bryan Singer stood at the front of the room in front of a diagram of the human throat. He was a short man, but his stature made him no less imposing. His square face, and square-r hairline made him look almost military though Rami knew of no prior experience in the military. The man was openly gay in the Berklee community, but it didn’t change the way the man wanted others to see him—imposing and demanding and completely in the right for how he saw things to be.

“No, sir.” Rami said, looking up at Singer with a soft shake of his head. Rami never felt comfortable with the man; it was unfortunate that the man was his thesis supervisor and his instructor on top of that.

Singer squinted behind his square glasses and turned back to his lecture. Rami went back to his notes. 

A few moments later, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He almost always kept the phone on silent because he didn’t want to disturb anyone when he forgot to turn the sound off, so the buzz was loud enough to feel, and in the right atmosphere it was loud enough to hear.

Singer turned his beetle eyes back on his students. He was one of the few professors who had a pretty strict no cell-phone policy and he kept his attention tuned for those tell-tale signs of texting in class. Rami hated it, because it felt more patronizing than anything else when nearly everyone in this room was at, or a little past, their first quarter life.

When no one pulled out their phones, Singer turned back to the board to write a few notes. Rami chanced pulling out his phone to see who had texted him.

 

Joe, 3:07 p.m.: I’ve had an idea for the name! You know that line in Crazy Little Thing where Freddie sings “Until I’m ready” and Brian and Rog sing “Ready Freddie” 

Joe, 3:07 p.m.: What if we call ourselves “The Ready Freddies”?

 

“You can sext your boyfriend later, Mr. Malek!” Singer called from the front of the class. “Put your phone away now and see me after class.”

No one was immature enough to ‘oooh’ as Rami got in trouble, but he could hear the jeer echoing in his mind as he put his phone away with a deep blush that reached his ears. He blinked away the feeling of tears that threatened to cloud his vision as he shoved his phone deep into his book bag and looked straight ahead at the board.

A couple of his classmates sent sympathetic looks, but Rami did his best to not acknowledge them in the slightest.

 

 

A little over an hour later Rami worked to slowly gather his things and let the others exit the room before he made his way toward the professor. He knew this wasn’t going to be a pretty conversation, but he would endure it as he had endured many things in his life; resolutely and with as much dignity as he could muster.

The door clicked shut on the last person to leave and before Rami could open his mouth to let Singer know he had stayed as requested, the older man descended on him like a pack of wolves at a feast.

“Mr. Malek, do you want to be here at Berklee?” Singer asked in what Rami presumed to be a rhetorical question. “Do you know how many students were _denied_ acceptance so that YOU could attend this prestigious institution?”

“Well, I’d presume only one, as I can’t possibly be taking up more than one position at this school…”

Singer rushed upon him and snarled. “Don’t be cute, boy.” The older man’s teeth were bared, and Rami could see the anger in his squinty little eyes as the older man made sure to get right in Rami’s face. “Over 800 students apply to this school every semester, and less than 200 of them are accepted each year. You. Are. Insignificant. And your acceptance here was a blessing it seems that you are not grateful for in the least.”

Rami said nothing. His heart was hammering in his chest. He could feel the fear settling deep within him as he fought to stay upright and not turn and flee from the situation. He would endure; he must endure. His hands shook as they struggled to make fists at his side, just in case he needed to protect himself.

Singer, realizing the position he was in, and the fact that another class would be coming into the room at any time, took a step back and turned his back toward his student.

“I always have a student like you in my class.” He said, putting his things into his briefcase. “Ungrateful. Talented, but undeserving…” He turned his head to face Rami again. “You CAN succeed here, Mr. Malek. In fact, I hope that you do. But there is only one way to do it, and if your behavior in class doesn’t change—you will not succeed. I’ll see to that.”

Rami gulped, but nodded in acceptance. He’d agree to anything right now, if push came to shove.

The door behind them squeaked open, and both Rami and Singer turned to face the door. An undergraduate stuck his head in and said, “Urm, excuse me, I believe English Comp is in this class next. Do you mind if I come in and set up?”

Singer offered a curt nod and turned to Rami once more. “No more cell phones in class. Your personal life can wait until class is over.”

Singer turned and walked out the door, taking his briefcase with him, and about half of Rami’s self-esteem.

“Is that Doctor Singer?” The undergraduate asked. “I’ve heard he’s pretty tough. I’m glad he’s not teaching first years. Are you taking a class with him? Is he that difficult, really?”

Rami’s voice cracked, but all he could say was “Yeah” as he walked out the door.

 

 

 

The broom swept over the hardwood floors gathering all of the dust bunnies from all of the crevices in the second bedroom. Allan was packing up his belongings, and nearly everything was out of the room, but the place was still a wreck. Empty hangers were scattered all over the floors, loose change and trash that hadn’t made it’s way into trashcans were being uprooted from their place under the bed. 

“How can you live like this?” Rami asked, holding up an empty plastic cheese wrapper with his nose wrinkled. “Why is this living under your bed?”

“Hey, don’t judge!” Allan said. “Grad school has been difficult, okay?”

“I get that, but…” Rami gestured to the pile of dirt he’d made in the small room. “Really? Really.”

Allan shrugged. “I’m only a bachelor for a little longer?”

Rami pretended to gag and finished giving the room a good sweep. He’d come back later once the room was nearly empty to finish with another sweep and a mop to make sure the room was clean for Joe’s new roommate.

Typically, Rami wouldn’t do this for anyone, but the other night Joe had invited he and Ben over to his place for a drink after rehearsals. The place wasn’t trashed, but Rami knew he wouldn’t be comfortable moving into the space if he had to right after someone else had moved out and it wasn’t as clean and comfortable as it could be, so he wanted to make sure Joe was a good roommate and had the space cleaned up a little for the new guy. It was the least he could do for his old childhood friend.

Once he’d finished with the sweeping, Rami went to check in on Joe who was cleaning out the kitchen. Rami had instructed him to go through the fridge and clean it out of anything that had expired or anything that was older than a week, or that he knew Allan wouldn’t want to take with him to his girl’s place. When he had finished that, he was to actually clean the fridge of any spills or stains while he was at it.

Rami walked in to see Joe with his head in the back of the fridge and his ass-end sticking right out. He looked to the corner where Ben was working at organizing the shelves and laughed quietly at the blond would couldn’t tear his eyes away from Joe Mazzello’s backside.

“Hey, Ben.” Rami said to the kid as he finally realized where he was and who was looking at him. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Oh, yeah.” He said, his cheeks getting pink really fast.

“He got here a little bit ago.” Joe said, sticking his head out of the fridge. “I put him to task to organize the shelves and the tupperware.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Rami said with a little bit of a smirk to the younger man.

“That’s what I said too!” Joe stuck his head back out of the fridge. “I’m giving him a beer after.”

“Corruption of a minor, how scandalous.” Rami teased.

“It’s not illegal in England!” Ben said with a laugh.

Rami winked at the blond and pointed toward the living room. “I’m going to tidy up out here. Is everything out here yours or Allan’s or a combination?”

“Uhh…” Joe thought, pulling his head fully out of the fridge and looking at the living room. “A little of both. Maybe just start with the obvious cleaning needs and I’ll be out in a little bit to organize some things.”

“Thank you, Rami. You’re the best, Rami.”

Joe laughed loudly. “Thank you, Rami. You’re the best.”

 

 

 

Rami could hear Ben and Joe speaking every so often; he wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but the fact that both men seemed to be a bit besotted with each other already was delightful for Rami. Even when he didn’t have someone of his own, he loved love, and he was curious to see how things wound up between the twenty year old and the twenty-six year old.

“So, you and Rami’ve been friends for ages, yeah?” Rami could hear Ben ask.

“Well, kind of.” Joe said. “We were best friends when we were kids, but we only just recently re-met again as adults and it’s been great.”

“What do you mean re-met?”

“So… um, we both went off to different schools for college, and you know how it is. You swear up and down that you’ll keep in touch, but something happens and you just don’t hear from each other as often as you once did, and eventually you’re only sending texts on birthdays and Christmas… he was literally my next door neighbor until I was twenty, and then his family moved away from mine and the stubborn bastard refused to get facebook and we just lost touch. It was a total stroke of luck that I ran into him the other day at Refuge.”

“Wow. Really? You had no idea he’d be there?”

“None. Zip zero zilch. I was so surprised. To think that if I hadn’t gone in at that time, I wouldn’t have seen him again!”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess I just believe that if something is meant to happen, if someone is really meant to be in your life, it’ll just happen. You’ll meet someway or somehow.”

Rami could hear Joe pause in his cleaning for a second. “That’s really nice.” Joe said. “That’s beautiful. Maybe all of us were meant to meet?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Ben said. Rami imagined he was pink again. The poor boy did flush easily. Rami smiled and continued cleaning as if he hadn’t been listening to the conversation the whole time.

 

 

It was Sunday, and Rami was at Joe’s apartment once more. This time to help and welcome Joe’s new roommate to the neighborhood. Rami was grateful that his apartment and Joe’s apartment were literally blocks from one another. The closeness allowed Rami to drop by relatively unannounced. Ben’s dorm, on the other hand, was a good thirty minute green line ride from Allston to Back Bay on a good day—give or take five extra minutes for the reverse commute or a day the Red Sox played. It took a lot more planning to get Ben over to Joe’s apartment, unless the three of them had practice scheduled already.

They decided they wouldn’t practice today, since Gwilym Lee, Joe’s new roommate, would be moving in. Joe actually wanted to welcome the guy in and help him unload and get his things set up the way he wanted. Gwil was buying the furniture from Allan, which was going to be a relief to all of them. Allan and his girlfriend because they wouldn’t have an extra bed hanging around the apartment, Gwil and Joe because they wouldn’t have to move furniture like that into the room, and Rami, because he wouldn’t need to help lift anything heavier than about five pounds.

He and Joe were sitting around and playing a video game as they waited for Gwil to show up with a rental van full of his things.

“Hey.” Joe said suddenly, and Rami looked around to see if it was really him he was speaking to—just in case someone else had walked in. “You never told me what you thought.”

“Uh…” Rami said, drawing a blank about what it was he thought.

“About ‘The Ready Freddies’.”

“Oh! Huh.” Rami’s lips pulled down as he was thinking, and Joe paused the game and turned to look at the man beside him. “Yeah, I mean, it’s catchy.”

“But it’s not quite right is it?”

Rami shook his head. “No… and I think an outfit in Chicago is already going by that name.”

“Damn.” Joe said, disappointed.

“We could simply just be Ready Freddie.” Rami offered.

Joe shrugged, “We’ll keep it in mind.”

Joe’s phone pinged as Gwil sent him a text that he was here. Joe jumped up in excitement and did a double take around the apartment to make sure it was ready for the new housemate. He patted the sofa cushion, though the sofa was old anyway and the pillows were pretty flat, but he was eager to make the best of the situation. What was old to Joe would be new to Gwil.

Rami worried that perhaps Joe was being too kind and open with this person who hadn’t moved in yet, but Rami knew that he was much more cautious around new people than Joe. Even as kids, Joe was much more extraverted than Rami (his twin brother Sami was more like Joe than Rami in that regard too). Rami knew that Joe would be open and welcoming to his new roommate—he hoped that the new roommate would be the same in return.

Joe propped open the door to his apartment, and walked down the stairs to the outside doors. There, standing in the doorway, was perhaps one of the most handsome men Rami ever had the pleasure of seeing in his life. He was tall with a soft brown hair and a bit of a beard that didn’t grow in all patchy like Rami’s did. He also had these gorgeous blue-green eyes that Rami couldn’t quite stop looking at. Rami offered a small smile as Joe threw open the door and propped it open so they could bring in Gwil’s boxes.

“Gwil!” Joe said happily. “Welcome home.” He grinned. “Rami and I’ll help get you in.”

Gwil turned and smiled at both Joe and Rami. “Thanks, mate.” Rami felt his draw drop just a little—he had an accent? Why hadn’t Joe mentioned? Rami made sure to catch his lip between his teeth so he wouldn’t gasp or make a scene.

Gwil stuck out his hand to Rami, and Rami took it with ease, and perhaps a tiny blush on his cheeks. “Rami.” He said, introducing himself softly.

“Nice to meet you, Rami. Thank you for the help.”

 

 

 

It didn’t take very long before Gwil’s rental van was all unloaded. The man had very few boxes and only two suitcases of clothes that he needed to bring in. The majority of his items were books, which he insisted he cary himself, simply because he knew how heavy they were. It was about two hours later when Joe suggested they order a pizza and get some beer to celebrate a successful move. Gwil just needed to return his rental vehicle—fortunately, there was a rental return just a few blocks away so it wouldn’t take long to return at all. Rami offered to go with him so that he would have an easier time navigating the neighborhood and they could get back to pizza and beers sooner.

They chatted a bit about inconsequential things—studying at Berklee, getting a master’s degree, moving from different parts of the world to Boston. The conversation was easy and comfortable, and Rami thought maybe Joe was right in being so welcoming to the newcomer.

“So, not to be nosy, and not that it matters to me personally, but how long have you and Joe…” Gwil said, as they were walking back to Joe’s apartment.

Rami turned to him and tilted his head, “How long have Joe and I…?”

Gwil gesticulated with his hand by pushing it out with an open palm. “You know. Been together?”

Rami’s eyes went wide, and Gwil turned to look at him with wide eyes of his own. “I promise it doesn’t matter to me! I don’t mind it if my roommate’s gay or not. I mean, it’s not something that Joe and I talked about, but really, it doesn’t matter, and it shouldn’t matter because love is love is love, you know?”

Rami started laughing and put his hand on Gwil’s arm. “I’m sorry for laughing, but don’t worry. Joe and I aren’t together. We’ve been friends for years—we were friends as children—but we only recently became friends again when he ran into me in a coffee shop completely unexpectedly.” Rami continued chuckling as he felt the panic in Gwil calming down. 

“Oh—I’m so sorry for reading that wrong.”

Rami could tell he was sorry, and embarrassed, for assuming that Rami and Joe were together. “It’s alright. You aren’t wrong about me. I can’t say anything for Joe… but I think you’ll understand when you meet our drummer.”

“Oh, so you’re in the band he was talking about with him. A Queen tribute band, wasn’t it? What do you play?”

“Piano… and I sing. I got my undergraduate in musical theater, and getting my master’s in vocal pedagogy which means I’m doing a lot of operatic singing right now, which is really surprising that it all fits so well with Queen music.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but isn’t Bohemian Rhapsody nearly all operatic?”

Rami nodded. “And Joe told me you play the guitar.”

“Probably not as good as Brian May, but is anyone?”

“I’m not sure that even Brian May is as good as Brian May.” Gwil laughed at Rami’s joke, and the two shared a soft smile between them. 


	5. Gwilym

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces Lucy as a potential love interest for Gwil. I promise that this is not the end for Gwil and Rami! I know some of you are uncertain of the Gwil, Rami, and Lucy triangle, but I think as time goes on you'll find that they all compliment each other very well. These relationships are a bit harder to write (especially from Gwil's point of view) as he's much more logical (in this story) than I am. 
> 
> Furthermore, this is the chapter where the band is finally together. Huzzah.
> 
> In my head, I called this chapter the end of part one, but I think part one is getting to be a lot longer; I'm currently 30k in and quite a lot more is unfolding in terms of drama/happiness. So, consider this the end of part 1.a. Loads more to come soon.

**Chapter Five: GWILYM**

Gwilym smiled as he sat up in his bed; he could hear seagulls cawing from outside the bedroom window, and remembered with glee just how close Boston was to the ocean. He’d have to make it a plan to get out there sometime soon; or at least to Seaport District if nothing else. It was perhaps just a little cold for a beach trip, but it wasn’t winter yet, and it needed to happen while he was feeling quite good about life and about himself.

The move a little more than a week ago had done wonders for his soul. Sure, he felt a little bad about leaving Sasha in the lurch with only a couple days notice to find a new roommate, but he’d paid out till the end of the month and since he wasn’t on the lease he didn’t feel entirely bad about skipping out when the other man just couldn’t hold it together anymore. 

Joe was a bloody fantastic roommate. In the week he’d been living with him, Gwil picked up on a little bit about Joe. He was loud and noisy throughout the day; eagerly telling Gwilym about his day or about something he saw on the street or someone he met and didn’t he just meet the most interesting people? Didn’t the most interesting circumstances happen to the young man daily? Gwil loved it; he loved hearing about these strange and awkward encounters with people at the bus stop, and he loved telling his own stories about the people he worked with or the people who he met out and about throughout his day.

At night, however, Joe was mostly quiet and contemplative, and every so often Gwil could hear some music coming from Joe’s room, but it was never enough to disturb him or make him have a tough time falling asleep. They’d watch a movie in the evening together, after they both got home from school, work, or (for Joe) from band practice. Joe’s friend Rami had made a couple appearances for movie night as well. 

There was also the jam sessions that he’d have with Joe ]too. Joe would either bring out his keyboard or acoustic bass into the living room, and Gwil would bring out his guitar, and the two would play music for an hour or two, just riffing off of each other and not really playing anything in particular. It was great fun, and Gwil was incredibly glad he had moved in with Joe.

This morning he was up early for a yoga session downtown before he went off to the music class he was teaching. The studio was right next to the college, and Gwil quite liked going because there was this young woman who was always in the class with him. He hadn’t quite worked up the courage to talk to her yet, but he knew one day he would.

Joe was making himself some breakfast. He was dressed in a white undershirt and his boxers and his hair was completely out of place. He wasn’t doing much more than pouring himself some cereal, but Gwil smiled and clapped him gently on the shoulder as he passed by him in order to grab his own breakfast of yogurt, blueberries, and granola (and maybe a bit of honey and pumpkin seeds if he felt like throwing some in). 

“Rough night?” He asked Joe, who took a bite of cereal with his eyes closed. He had bags under his eyes, and it looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.

“Creative genius struck at 3 a.m.,” he said with a husky voice. “I wrote something that wasn’t literal shit.”

Gwil’s hand went back to Joe’s shoulder as he rubbed it softly. “Well, after your class, go back to sleep if you haven’t much else to do today.”

“Mmm.” Joe acknowledged. “We’ll see if I make it back to bed. Might fall asleep on the train and wake up at Boston College.”

“Well, enjoy that well-deserved nap to BC then.” Joe quirked a smile and continued shoving the cereal in his mouth without taking a look at what he was doing.

Gwil finished his breakfast and rushed off to get to his yoga session.

 

 

The cute blonde was there again today. She was in the row ahead and two spaces diagonal from Gwil’s position. He could see her just out of the corner of his eye when he transitioned from Cat-Cow and Table to Downward Dog. Her hair was pulled back in two short pigtails, and Gwil thought it was quite adorable. 

The last three minutes of class, during Savasana when Gwil was supposed to be letting all thoughts drift from his mind, Gwil was preparing himself to talk to the girl in question. He’d say something like… ‘that class was great wasn’t it?’ And she’d have to respond and talk to him. He wondered what her voice would sound like… was it high and breathy? He kind of hoped it was. 

Together with his class, he ended the yoga session with three deep breaths that they exhaled together and then everyone was up and clearing their mats, bricks, and blankets. 

“That was a great class wasn’t it?” Gwil said, under his breath a couple of times, working up the courage to say it as he slowly packed his mat. “That was a great class.”

“Yes it was,” a soft, British voice responded. Gwil looked up and there she was. A delicate little smile on her face, her blonde hair pulled back in pigtails. “Sorry, were you talking to me? I mean, I suppose I only assumed because I was here, but if you weren’t…”

“Ah…” Gwil said, feeling his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. “Yes! I-sorry. I—I seem to be tripping over myself here.” He decided to go with the self-deprecating approach as he spoke to the younger woman. “I… I didn’t realize you were British.”

“Well, American-born British. I was born in New York but raised in London. I didn’t realize you were either.”

“Welsh, actually.” Gwil said with a smile, “Raised in London too. I’m Gwilym.” He said, sticking out his hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Gwilym.” She said, “I’m Lucy. You’ve been doing this for a little while now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, a few weeks. I started not long after beginning at Berklee. How about you? Have you been doing this long?”

“I started not long after beginning at Berklee too.” She said with a smile. “I’m amazed we haven’t run into each other yet. Or that you haven’t run into my friend Ben. He’s also British and goes to Berklee.”

“Oh, really? Did you both come here together, or did you meet here?” Gwil gestured for her to lead him out of the yoga studio into the hallway to gather their things.

“We met here, surprisingly!” Her smile was so cute that Gwil couldn’t help but smile back as well. 

“That’s fantastic. I—I’m still a little surprised that you’re British.” He laughed. “I… I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee sometime. Like… maybe now?”

When Lucy was silent for a beat too long, Gwil threw in, “Or tomorrow. Or never even if that’s better.”

“Wait, no.” She giggled. “I just… I’m a little surprised. Urm. I’ve kind of had a little crush on you for the last few weeks so you asking me for coffee is… it’s wild.”

“Oh.” Gwil said, feeling his face flush with her words. “Re-really? I have too… I was trying to work up the courage to say something when you… well, I’m glad you overheard me.”

Lucy flushed a light pink and smiled up at him, “Well, Gwilym, what would you say to that coffee now? I have about an hour before class, and was planning to grab something anyway.”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

 

 

Joe, 3:30 p.m.: I know you keep saying that you’re so awfully busy, but I really think you should drop by the studio tonight and jam with the band. 

Joe, 3:30 p.m.: I keep talking you up to Rami and he’s insisting on hearing you play. And I’m not going to lie, I’d love to hear what you can do with an Axe! 

Joe, 3:32 p.m.: Just think about it, ok? We’re practicing a little later tonight cause drummer boy has class this afternoon. 6:00 at the studio.

 

At 5:00, Gwil returned to his apartment with a smile still plastered to his face. He came in and changed into a pair of light gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt before coming into the living room. Joe was putting on a pair of shoes and getting ready to go somewhere.

“Hey mate,” Gwil said, “I thought practice wasn’t until six?”

Joe looked up at Gwil with a surprised grin. “You’re coming?!”

“I thought I might stop by, yeah.”

Gwil could tell that Joe was trying to contain himself with the joy that Gwil was going to join them. He half expected Joe to jump up and grab him and scream in his ear in excitement.

“That’s fantastic. I’m glad you’re going to join us.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“NO!” Joe shouted and jumped over to Gwil before he wrapped him in a hug. “You are coming!” 

“That’s more like it.”

“I’m going to go care for the chicken and go for a run if you want to join me before we go to the studio.”

Gwil froze, still incredibly close to Joe and now slightly uncomfortable. “… It may be a turn of phrase I’m unfamiliar with, but I thought the American phrase was ‘choke the chicken’ not ‘care’ for it… but uh…”

Joe took a step back with wide eyes. “WHAT! Oh my God!” He laughed. “No! I mean… literally, I’m going downstairs to literally take care of the chicken that lives down there. Not… do that.” 

Joe was still laughing when he told Gwil to just put on his shoes and follow him. “Choke the chicken, my God.”

Gwil was apprehensive until they finally made it down two flights of stairs into the basement where there was a medium sized dog kennel set up near the washer and dryer that housed a young chicken. “Why the fuck is there a chicken here?”

“Who knows?” Joe said with a shrug. “It was wandering around the complex for a couple days, so I thought it might be better to set it up in here where it hopefully wouldn’t be attacked by rats in the night than to let it go off on its own.”

Joe pulled out some chicken feed and tossed it on the floor of the kennel. He also checked the water situation, and made a note that he’d need to clear the kennel floor the next day. “So, this is the chicken… When I plan to masturbate and invite you in on it, I’ll be sure to be clear.”

Gwil looked over at Joe, who had the biggest smirk on his face at that moment, and let out a loud full-throated laugh.

 

 

“I met a girl today.” Gwil said, panting as they jogged down the street. “Took her for coffee after yoga. Name’s Lucy.” 

Gwil could feel the sweat dripping down his back and from his cheeks into his beard. He brought a large hand to his face to wipe the wetness away.

“She cute?” Joe asked, more out of breath from trying to keep up with Gwil and his long stride. Joe was red and sweating profusely, but Gwil knew he wouldn’t ask to slow down.

“Yeah.” They came to a street light, and were forced to jog for a moment.

“Gonna see her again?” 

“Yeah.”

“Rami’ll be disappointed.” Joe wheezed a laugh as the light changed to a little green walking man. His hand came out to gently smack Gwil in the stomach. Gwil made a funny ‘karate-like’ sound with a smile on his face.

 

 

The studio was all set up and ready to go when six o’clock rolled around. Gwil and Joe had done their run and had swung back by the apartment to grab their instruments and a bottle of water before heading over. Gwil was a little uncertain on how this would go; he was by no means a Queen expert, but his training had given him a good ear and he knew Brian May’s style of play well enough to replicate some of it. It wouldn’t be perfect at first, but this was just an opportunity to shred for a while. 

Gwil was warming up with some scales and taking his guitar for a little spin since it was so infrequent that he was able to connect his electric guitar up to an amp and play to his heart’s content. Joe was fidgeting around and setting up a few little things for the drummer and Rami so that when they arrived they could get right to practicing.

It didn’t take very long for Joe to finish his tasks and pick up his bass. When Joe’s bass came in as seamlessly as it did when they played together at home, Gwil turned and shot Joe an easy smile and began to nod his head to the beat. 

They played a minute more before they realized that they had an audience. Twin pairs of claps gave notice that Rami and the drummer had made it to practice. 

“Wow!” Rami said. “That was great!”

“It was!” Joe said, reaching over and clapping Gwil on the shoulder. Gwil smiled at Rami and turned to meet the drummer for the first time. He stood, wrapping his guitar around his back so that the neck was close to his hip.

“You must be Ben.” Gwil reached his hand out to shake the drummer’s hand.

Ben was young. His cheeks still had a touch of that teenage softness that happens right before the last growth spurts into adulthood. With the winter cap on his head, his eyes looked big and blue, and they held a small bit of uncertainty as they took in Gwilym’s tall form.

“I’m Gwilym Lee, but you can call me Gwil.”

Ben turned to look at Joe who was still behind Gwil. “Wot you doin’ mate? Collecting all the expats this side of the pond?”

Joe, Rami and Gwil laughed as Ben finally shook Gwil’s hand. 

“I thought I was special for half a second.” Ben said with a mischievous look on his face.

“Oh, come on now.” Joe said with a sigh. “Of course you’re special.”

Gwil and Rami turned to look at Joe with a raised eyebrow. “I just mean… you’re the only drummer we’ve got.” Joe’s cheeks were pink and Gwil couldn’t help but share a knowing look with Rami recalling the conversation he had with him regarding Joe and the drummer.

Ben looked between the three of them and said, quite dryly, “You only keep me because I’m pretty.” The young man somehow managed to flirt with a frown and a judgmental look. Ben stuck his chin in the air and walked past Gwilym and Joe. He sat poshly at the drum kit and twirled his drumsticks waiting for a reaction from the rest of the men.

Rami and Gwil laughed and Joe blushed before he joined in the laughter a beat or two late. Gwil pretended that he didn’t notice the delay.

“Let’s play something,” Rami said with a smile. “Gwil, since you’re the one here who hasn’t played with us yet, why don’t you pick something and hopefully we’ll all know it.”

“Queen songs only?” Gwil asked, strumming his guitar. 

“Seeing as we’re a Queen tribute band, I thought we’d go with some Drake songs tonight.” Joe said with a smirk. 

Gwil turned to him and grinned as he laughed. Rami and Ben joined him in laughter. Gwil watched as Joe looked between the three of them and let his smile and laughter grow to join the band. 

Tapping his hand against the body of his guitar, Gwil deliberated. “How do you guys feel about Liar?” 

Rami and Joe nodded. 

“Let me look over the notes real quick, but yeah, I’m familiar enough with it. I think I could do it.”

Ben pulled up his notes on his iPad and skimmed through the notes, reading something that Gwil was certain he wouldn’t understand. With a nod, Ben put the iPad up on his music stand in front of him and looked at everyone else. 

“Of course you choose something with a drum solo at the beginning… But yeah, I got this. You lot got the lyrics?”

Rami and Joe nodded quickly. 

“We’re set. Gwil?” Joe asked, making sure Gwil was good to go before giving a nod at Ben. “On your cue.”

Ben counted the tempo in his head and leaned into the drum solo before looking up with a nod at Joe, Rami and Gwil. The three came in a couple beats late, and Ben had to double back a couple beats before they all caught up to each other. 

“I have sinned dear Father. Father I have sinned.” Rami came in singing. Gwil nearly lost his place in playing with the surprise at how good Rami was. His voice wasn’t identical to Freddie Mercury’s but it was damn fucking close. 

Gwil and Joe chimed in with the background vocals, and Gwil couldn’t help but grin at his roommate when he heard how good the three of them sounded singing together. With the drums, guitar, keyboard and bass, they sounded like a real band. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it sounded like something they could actually do, and with a lot of practice, it sounded like it was something they could actually make work. 

When the song ended, the four men looked around at each other and burst into cheers and claps. “That sounded fantastic.” Gwil said, unable to contain his grin.

“It needs a lot of work still, but from four people who’d never played that song together before, it really wasn’t bad.” Rami nodded. 

“Guys,” Joe said, shaking his head and smiling. “I think this has to happen. I think… I think we could become a good tribute band.”

Everyone but Ben agreed. When the three others looked back at him he nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

 

 

Two hours later, the four men made their way out of the studio. They were laughing and carrying their instruments, and were simply excited about the prospect of working together to create a band that could potentially go somewhere—at least locally. 

“I think we should try to book something for Halloween.” Joe said. “It’ll give us something to work toward, and who wouldn’t want to hire a Queen tribute band on Halloween?”

“Yeah, we can ask around.” Rami said with a nod.

Ben and Joe walked ahead toward the more populated block around Harvard Ave. Rami’s place was up ahead and Joe and Gwil would break off before. Gwil walked a little slower, staying in step with Rami.

“I’m hungry.” Ben said, looking around at the other guys. “Would any of you want to grab some food?”

“I could go for some food.” Gwil said, looking at Rami and shrugging, hoping that the other man would join them. He wasn’t sure why he particularly wanted Rami to join, but he knew that he liked the man’s presence.

Gwil had gotten to know “quiet” Rami; the Rami who tucked himself into the corner of the chair during movie nights, and the Rami who wasn’t shy about plucking food off of other’s plates when he thought they wouldn’t notice. Gwil liked that Rami a lot, but he was surprised by the more outgoing “louder” Rami who stole the presence of the studio space they had been in for the last two hours. 

“The Cantina’s up ahead,” Joe said. “They’ve got a ton of beer on tap, and it’s not technically a bar because they serve food.”

“We can’t go to a bar because…” Gwil asked, looking at the men.

“Benny’s not quite old enough,” Joe said, reaching out to pretend to pinch Ben’s cheeks.

“In January.” Ben said with a pout, shoving Joe’s hands away from him. “I’m twenty-one in January.”

“Still so young.” Joe teased him. “So fresh and full of life.”

“We should harvest his organs for our own failing ones.” Rami said with a monotone voice and with a delayed wink. “I’m aging by the minute over here. Ben, can I have your kidney? You only need one.”

Ben pretended to be annoyed, but it didn’t seem to bother him that much because he smiled and flipped the two men the finger. 

Gwil laughed because it was obvious to him that this was something the two older men teased Ben about often enough. 

 

They got a table at The Cantina and were looking over the menu. The blue one had all the beer selections, and the yellow one had the food. Joe sat beside Ben, which left Rami and Gwilym next to each other. Behind their menus, Joe asked Ben what beer he wanted to drink. 

Gwilym puzzled over this since in America, Ben wasn’t yet old enough to drink. How were they going to get away with ordering four beers when only three of them could drink?

He puzzled over whether he should get a British beer or try for something different. 

“What are you getting?” Gwil asked Rami.

“Oh, me? I’m not actually drinking tonight. I’ve got a vocal performance session in the morning. I’m ordering for Joe, though.” He said quietly, so no wait staff would overhear them. “He’s getting Sam Adams.”

“What was that?” Joe hissed. “What are you getting me?”

“Sam Adams.” Gwil said so Joe could hear. Rami rolled his eyes at Gwil.

“Like fuck you are! You’re getting me Night Shift, and if they don’t have Night Shift you’re getting me Yuengling.” Never once did Joe raise his voice above a harsh whisper. Gwil was quite impressed as he had never heard Joe say anything below a dull roar. 

“Right, so that’s one Sam Adams. Gwil? How about you? Sam Adams?” Rami smirked. 

“I’ll have a Sam Adams. It seems very American.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Joe hissed.

When the waitress came, the three older boys pulled out their IDs and handed them over. “What’ll you take, boys?”

“Two S—” A thud was heard under the table, and Rami hissed. “One Sam Adams draft, one Night Shift draft if you have it, and one Smuttynose Old Brown Dog Ale. Ben, here, will have water—no ice.”

“For the Sam— Seasonal or Boston Lager?”

“Boston Lager, please.” Gwil said, speaking up for himself, not that he minded that Rami took over ordering for them. Gwil looked at Rami and when he got a nod, he figured he made a good enough choice.   
Throughout the rest of the night, Gwil kept looking to Rami to gauge his reaction to different things. He watched Rami as he pretended to drink his beer while slipping it to Joe instead. Gwil laughed with the others as he got to know them, but found himself fascinated with the man who would be their Freddie Mercury.

Later that evening, once the bars were beginning to close and Joe, Ben, Gwilym and Rami were making their way home, Gwil could detect a pang of sadness that had lodged itself in his throat that Rami would be returning to his own apartment while he, Joe, and Ben would be staying together for the night. Gwil made him promise to come over again very soon.


	6. Ben

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading! I know last chapter was a little sad for those Rami/Gwil fans, but like I said, I hope you'll come to like this version of Lucy. I quite love her, and think she makes sense in this world. 
> 
> But here's Ben! 
> 
> I truly love feedback, and would love to hear your thoughts as things continue. Let me know what you like or don't like! I can't guarantee anything will change if it's not something you like, but I do want to hear what you think.

**Chapter Six: BEN**

He hadn’t had that many beers; maybe two and a half. Certainly, it wasn’t enough that he needed to lean over Joe’s shoulder like a complete and total lightweight. Nevertheless, his arm was around Joe’s neck, and Joe’s arm was around his hip. He was flush; he could feel how warm his face was, but if anyone asked he’d blame it on the drinks.

“You might as well just stay with us.” Joe was saying. Ben nodded, easily accepting the offer. A part of him wondered where exactly he’d sleep. 

He knew where he wanted to sleep. If he could, he’d curl up in Joe’s bed for the night—with Joe next to him of course. To be honest though, he’d be happy to be able to stay on the couch in the living room.

“If you don’t mind. Getting back by the T just sounds awful.”

“Yeah, just stay with us.” Joe said.

Up ahead, Rami and Gwil were walking together and talking. A few days ago, Ben had wondered if Joe and Rami were together, but the more he got to know the both of them he realized that their relationship was entirely platonic. The way Rami was with Gwil, though, confirmed all he needed to know. Ben couldn’t quite make out what it was that they were talking about, but it had to be something good. Neither man had surfaced from their conversation since they began walking home. Ben could hear something about Asimov and Bradbury and Dick, and the only one of those things that Ben had any interest in was the last one. Why were they talking about dick?

“Why are they talking about dick?” Ben asked Joe, quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.

Joe laughed. “Philip K. Dick, I believe. They’re talking about science-fiction literature. They’re both really into science-fiction apparently.”

“What nerds.” Ben said with a smirk. Joe laughed beside him and tapped his hip in appreciation of the gentle teasing. Ben leaned into the touch more than he knew he would.

It was comfortable here, with Joe’s arm around his neck as they walked the few blocks to Joe’s apartment. It amazed him—they had barely known each other for a week, yet here they were walking down the street huddled together and closer than close. Closeness with Joe was easy; the older man made it easy. He was warm and friendly, and he literally took Ben under his wing.

Ben glanced over at Joe, barely turning his head. Joe’s soft red hair framed his face, and Ben wondered idly if it would be as soft to touch as it looked. If anyone asked, he’d blame that thought on the beer, but he doubted that anyone would ask so perhaps it was safe to wonder a little more. Further on, he wondered if the shadow of stubble would be rough on his skin; that wonder sent a little shiver down his spine. There was nothing Ben loved more than stubble scratching at his face as he made out with another man.

It was something he hadn’t already shared with the other guys. He could tell that Rami was like him. While the man put on a strong front of masculinity, there were ways that he moved that Ben just knew where the man’s interests lie. Ben wasn’t sure about Joe, and he definitely was uncertain of Gwilym’s interests. It wasn’t that he was afraid of “coming out” to these guys, he just wanted to observe a little further before jumping into anything.

Ben preferred to play it safe than rush headfirst into something—even if that something was admitting who he really was. 

 

They parted ways with Rami just outside Joe’s apartment. Rami apparently had taken the long walk around the neighborhood to chat with the guys a little more. Ben and Joe had separated so that Joe could dig his keys out of his pocket, and Rami parted with giving Joe a long hug and pat on the back. 

“I’m glad we’ve finally got the band together.” He said to all of them, and with a nod he was off to his own apartment. 

Ben, Joe, and Gwil walked up to the second floor walk-up and made their way inside. Gwil parted off to the first bedroom to change into lounge clothes, and Joe made his way past the living room to his own room where he could change. He didn’t shut the door, and called for Ben through the opening.

“Here,” He said, handing Ben a t-shirt that seemed just a bit too large for Joe and a pair of gray sweatpants. Ben and Joe weren’t the same size, but he was closer to Joe’s size than Gwil’s size. Any clothes of Gwil’s would have dwarfed him, or made him look more like a child than he already felt around the older men.

“Thanks,” Ben said. He gestured to the bathroom. “I’m gonna…”

“Yeah, of course.” Joe said, already unlacing his shoes and slipping them off his feet.

Ben slipped into the bathroom, and changed into Joe’s clothes. Though Ben couldn’t imagine Joe wearing this old t-shirt, somehow it smelled just like him and Ben had a hard time not pressing it right up against his nose for more than just a moment. The shirt was just a hair tighter than the shirts he typically wore, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just pulled tighter against his chest. The pants were tight across his bum, but it wasn’t quite as noticeable to him. He did find it funny that the pants fell above his ankles, though.

If staying at Joe’s continued, he might have to stash a pair of pants here that he could change into, but that was jumping ahead of where they were right now.

When Ben came out of the bathroom, he walked into the living room to find Joe and Gwilym sitting comfortably beside each other on the couch. Joe was in this really warm and cozy maroon sweater that should have clashed with his hair, but somehow didn’t, and a pair of exercise shorts. His feet were bare, and Ben couldn’t help but glance at his long feet and toes. Could he help that he then wondered if the old adage held true for Joe? Well, he was still technically a teenager, and his thoughts did tend to stray in one direction quite often. 

Gwilym had changed into a plain white shirt and a different pair of gray sweat pants. Seriously, how many pairs did he own? His hair was a bit fluffier than it had been before, and on top of his long nose sat a pair of round tortoise shell glasses. Ben had no idea that the other man wore glasses, and was surprised at how much a single pair of glasses changed his face. Gwil had a long face in general, but with the addition of the glasses his face seemed much longer and the cheekbones less pronounced than when he didn’t wear them.

Both men looked up at Ben when he entered the living room. Gwil’s lips twitched into a smirk, and Joe’s eyes went a little wide before he looked away and a blush enflamed his neck and ears. Ben wondered what that was about, and made his way to sit between them on the couch, though there was little space.

“What are you watching?” Ben asked, finally noticing that the tv was on.

“Gwil just turned on the news for a bit.” Joe said, looking at the tv with disdain. 

“I just like to know what’s happening in the world.” 

Joe rolled his eyes. “I was hoping for a movie or something, but I think I’ll go to bed soon.”

“Sorry that I want to know what’s happening in Boston and the rest of the country.” Gwil said sarcastically, “It’s such a shame that I’m interested in more than movies and music.”

“Yeah, it is a shame. You should only like what I like and nothing more or less.” Joe said with a smirk. 

Ben sat between them uncomfortably. “Do you two need a moment?” He was somewhat confused at their flirting; were they interested in each other? Ben hadn’t seen it before, but perhaps they were and Ben was in the way.

Gwil laughed and patted Ben on the knee. “I think we’re alright, Benny-boy.” Ben wasn’t sure how to feel about the nickname. He wanted to assume it was just Gwil being friendly and teasing, but a part of him worried that he was making fun of Ben’s age. He didn’t want to think that Gwil meant that Ben was just a boy, and what was he doing amongst the men of the group, so of course he was worried that was the most likely reality.

“Alright.” Ben nodded and tried to hide his frown. 

Joe stood up and stretched, his sweater riding up his stomach. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed. Ben, I’ll get you some blankets.”

“Thanks, mate.” Ben said, scooting over to Gwil a bit more room. Ben curled up against the armrest and put his feet beside him. He was feeling a bit tired, and like he could sleep soon. Gwil seemed highly engrossed in what the news was saying. 

Ben could feel his eyes drooping, but didn’t realize he had shut them until he felt a blanket settle over him. His eyes opened quickly, and he sat a little straighter only to come face to face with Joe. Joe’s eyes went large and he took a half step back.

“Sorry, I thought you were asleep.” Ben looked around the room and noticed that the TV was off and that Gwil had gone. 

“I…” Ben said in a bit of confusion. He could feel his throat not working quite right. On a good day his voice was thick and deep, but right now it was rough and husky, “I didn’t realize I’d dozed off.”

“Gwil only just got up, so it must have been a very light sleep.” Joe’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Ben shook his head and grabbed hold of the blanket that was wrapped around him now and pulled it up over him. “Thanks… for the blankets.”

“‘Course,” Joe said with a smile. “If you need anything, you know where I am.” With that, he turned off the light, and slipped into his room. The door latched with a soft snick, and Ben settled in on the sofa. It took him a little longer to fall asleep this time, but the sleep came easily.

 

 

The soft padding of feet was what woke him next. The old hardwood floors weren’t well secured, and Ben could hear bare feet sticking to the floorboards and releasing with a quiet pat. It sounded like they were mostly coming from the kitchen, but Ben could hear them a little closer as well, as the person walking moved about the two rooms.

The clock on the tv stand said it was a little after three. Ben’s eyes widened. It wasn’t that he was a firm believer in the supernatural, but anytime anything weird happened after three, he was convinced it was likely to be the Devil playing tricks on him. Mostly, it was from one too many horror films over the last decade of his life.

Slowly, Ben picked his head up and prayed that he wouldn’t come face to face with a demon. When he turned to look at where the sound was coming from, he saw nothing. Just the empty frame of the doorway leading into the kitchen. Then there was movement and Ben jolted in fright. It was a demon! No. No, fuck. No it wasn’t. 

Ben’s heart was pounding as he realized who it was padding around the house at this hour. It was Joe. It was just Joe. Ben put a hand on his chest and took a couple deep breaths. Joe walked into the bathroom and stood in the room for a moment without closing the door or turning on the light. Ben watched for a moment in confusion as Joe made another round around the small apartment. 

“Joe?” Ben whispered. He wondered if the other man was sleep walking. Nothing creepier than sleep walking, Ben thought. Joe froze, however, and shook his head before turning to look at Ben. Ben was just relieved that he wouldn’t have to figure out how to wake the other man.

“Shit.” Joe said softly. “Sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to wake you—again.” 

“It’s fine.” Ben frowned. His eyebrows pulled together and he tilted his head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“I…” Joe put his hands in his hair. He’d lost the sweater, and was now only wearing a white t-shirt and his boxer briefs. “I don’t sleep well. Obviously.”

“So… you walk around the apartment?”

Joe took a couple steps closer and wrapped his arms around his middle. “With only 700 square feet, it does seem a bit crazy.” He admitted.

“I’m not saying it’s crazy,” Ben said, sitting up and tucking the blanket Joe had given him a few hours ago around him. “I’m just wondering… why are you wondering around the apartment?”

“I have ADHD. I didn’t ever really grow out of it from when I was a kid, and some nights are just really hard to sleep and I end up walking around because I can’t rest.”

“Oh, yeah, that must be really difficult.” Ben pulled his legs up so Joe could have a place to sit. 

Joe didn’t sit right away. He bounced from foot to foot and he took a big long breath before even attempting to sit next to Ben. “Tell me something.” Joe said. “Anything. I just… I need to try to slow down and my brain is going too fast.”

“What do you want to hear about?” Ben said, turning and adjusting so he was looking at Joe who tucked himself at the other end of the couch. His fingers tapped along the side of his leg at a rhythm that Ben wasn’t certain he could keep on the drums. 

“Anything. Really. Tell me about living in England. What’s that like?”

Ben thought for a moment. “Well, I suppose it’s not that much different than living in Boston. Gray a lot of the time—cold and dreary. We don’t get as much snow, but lately Boston hasn’t been getting that much snow either. Thanks, global warming.” Joe laughed softly.

“The houses are different though. Not so much in the city; everything is right on top of the sidewalk and few houses have a garden, but the architecture… that’s different. It’s older, but everything was built to last, or was rebuilt after the war. I grew up in Bournemouth which is on the south coast of England. Not really near London at all, but it’s it’s own Borough. It’s also a resort town, so people come and live there seasonally, and don’t stay year round.”

“So a bit like Falmouth, then.”

“That’s the town near Cape Cod, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve only been once, over the summer. Maybe we all could take a trip next summer.”

Ben hoped they’d all still be a band by next summer. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“What’s your family like?”

“A bit crazy, actually.” Ben said softly, as if it pained him to admit his family wasn’t perfect. Joe probably had a perfect family. 

“Yeah? Try me.” Joe smiled at Ben, encouraging him to talk.

“Well, I’ve got three younger siblings. Two brothers and a sister. My parents divorced when I was young, so we lived with my mum and my grandmother while we were growing up and going to school.” He paused. “My grandmother passed a couple years ago. It was really hard for my mum. And as the oldest I really had to step up a lot for my younger brothers and sister.”

Joe was quiet for a minute. “My dad’s sick.” He admitted softly. Ben didn’t say anything but he turned to look at Joe closely. “He’s got brain cancer, and it’s… it’s terminal. I talk to him every night, but I still feel so… guilty… that I’m here and not home with him. My brother and sister are there; they live around the corner from him and my mom, and I call home every day to talk to him.”

“I talk with my mum nearly every night too.” Ben said softly. “I know it’s not the same, but nonetheless, I’m sorry. That’s really hard to go through. My grandmother had cancer as well. In her stomach. My mum took care of her the most, but… I did too. And so did my brothers and sister. It’s hard. Cancer fucking sucks.”

Joe sniffed a little. “Cancer does fucking suck.”

Ben reached out his hand and grabbed Joe’s. He slipped his fingers between Joe’s long digits and gave his hand a little squeeze. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to say anything. Joe quirked the side of his mouth up in appreciation of the new friend he had in Ben. 

After a few moments of quiet, Joe finally spoke. “You know, I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one sitting.” 

“Don’t worry, I doubt it’ll ever happen again.”

The pair made light talk for a little while before Joe finally felt able to curl up and rest his head on the back of the couch. Ben curled up beside him, the two facing each other and still talking every so often in whispers. As Joe’s eyes started to close, Ben reached over and draped the blanket over the both of them. Joe’s breath evened out suddenly, and Ben knew he was asleep. He smiled and tucked his head next to Joe’s on the back of the couch and fell asleep again.

 

 

“Do you have practice again tonight, buttercup?” Lucy said through the phone. “I just miss you and feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. You’ve been so busy with your new band, and not that I blame you, but I do want to know what’s happening in your life.”

“I do, but it’s a little later. We finally landed ourselves a lead guitar and since he has to work, it’s not until later. Which is fine by me as I can eat before if I don’t have class.”

“Well, why don’t you grab dinner with me, and then go to practice?”

“I think that would work for me. How’s 4:30 for an early dinner?”

“Perfect, my little beansprout. I’ll see you then.”

 

 

They ate dinner off the trays they used to cart the food through the cafeteria. At some schools it would have been proper to remove the trays from the table, but both Ben and Lucy knew that the cleanup would be easier just to eat over their trays. Ben was scarfing down a hotdog with chili and cheese on top, and Lucy had a slice of pizza and a salad. It was worth having something green she told Ben. 

“So, you still haven’t got a name for the band?” She asked him, between bites of her meal. 

“No,” Ben said shaking his head. “I guess Joe said to Rami, who is our lead singer, that maybe we could be called the Ready Freddies, but then Rami pointed out another tribute band in like Cleveland or Colorado was going by that name.”

“That’s disappointing.” Lucy said, biting into a sightly bitter leaf in her salad. “As is that bite of salad.” She made a face as she took a drink. “I’m sure something will come to everyone soon. It’ll be an epiphany I’m sure, love bug. One moment you’ll think you’ve got nothing, and the next you’ll have it.”

“I sure hope you’re right. Nothing would be worse than going up for our first show and not having a name.”

“Well, you could go up for your first show and not remember a single song.”

“Thanks, I wasn’t worried about that before now.”

Lucy smiled. “You’re welcome.”

They ate in silence for just a moment before Lucy spoke up, “I… think I met someone yesterday.”

“Oh?” Ben asked, instantly curious. While the two had a close relationship, it was purely friendship, and the both of them knew that.

“He’s older. A master’s student here at Berklee. We had coffee and talked for like an hour at a coffee shop and I think we might do something again.”

“How much older are we talking?”

“Eight years?”

Ben pulled a little face of surprise and curiosity. “I mean, it’s not the worst age gap, I suppose. I’ve seen larger.”

“Well, anyway. Please be excited for me. He’s really nice, and I really like him a lot. He’s the guy in my yoga class I told you about!”

“Really? You’ve been crushing on him for the last few weeks. Finally got up the courage?”

“He did. Well, kind of. He was practicing asking me if I thought the class was good when I overheard him and thought he was talking to me. I answered him. He was embarrassed, but I think he got over it quickly.”

Ben smiled. “That’s really sweet—I’m happy for you, love.”

“Thanks, doll-face.” Lucy said with a soft whine. “Now, I want to hear all about your new bandmates. You’ve told me a bit about Joe, so tell me about Rami. What’s he like?”

Ben took some time describing Rami—from his physical appearance and his Egyptian background, and the way he sounds and moves while he’s singing and dancing. He shared about how Rami’s been watching a lot of videos about Freddie Mercury and how he commanded the stage, and that Ben was excited to see him perform when they finally got to that point as a band.

“You should come and see us practice sometime. I think you’d like the guys.”

“Let me know a time. I’d love to come and see everyone play.”


	7. Rami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay everyone! Very busy month here on my end. Things are a little cliche, but who doesn't love a little cliche every now and again. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. Leave feedback if you'd please as well.

**Chapter Seven: RAMI**

A part of Rami had been disappointed to leave the night before when the other guys were essentially having a sleep over at Joe and Gwil’s apartment. Maybe it was a touch of FOMO-fear of missing out—or maybe it had something to do with the taller man with the bluest eyes Rami had ever seen. Either way, he was dreading having to be at Berklee for his vocal performance lesson, and in having to spend time again with Dr. Bryan Singer.

Waiting for the train at Harvard Ave, Rami got to thinking about the name of the band. It was something that they’d been thinking and talking about often, but had never gotten very far in their conversations. Joe was still desperately stuck on Ready Freddie, and nothing else just felt right for the rest of them either.

Text Group: The Band  
Rami, 8:13 a.m.: What if we called ourselves Fat Bottom Girls?

 

Rami pocketed his phone again. He was certain that he was the earliest one awake of all of them, and that none of them would respond until later. A train came, and Rami stepped on with the masses making their way into downtown for the day. Most of the seats were already taken, so Rami pulled himself into an inconspicuous corner of the train car, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting off for some time.

His hands were occupied in holding onto the ropes that hung off the ceiling, and attempting to keep his bag in front of his body when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket repeatedly. He wondered who could be texting him so repeatedly, and he anticipated that it may be the guys in the band, but the inability to check was infuriating.

At one of the Boston University stops, several students climbed off, and Rami was able to sit in a seat and pull his phone out again.

 

Text Group: The Band  
Gwil, 8:17 a.m.: But none of us are girls.

Joe, 8:17 a.m.: I see that you’re not arguing that we don’t have fat bottoms.

Gwil, 8:18 a.m.: I’m willing to admit that I have a fat bottom. And I’ll compliment you, Joe, on  
your own fat bottom.

Ben, 8:18 a.m.: I feel rather uncomfortable with this whole direction of fat bottoms.

Ben, 8:18 a.m.: Also, should I feel weird that I haven’t got a fat bottom?

Joe, 8:19 a.m.: Oh, trust me. You have a fat bottom too. The fattest.

Ben, 8:19 a.m.: Is that a good thing? I’ve been working out.

Joe, 8:20 a.m.: It’s very good.

Gwil, 8:20 a.m.: Woah, woah, woah. That’s English for “stop a horse.” Guys, I’m right here.

Gwil, 8:20 a.m.: Rami, you’ll never guess who I caught cuddling on the couch this morning.

Ben: 8:21 a.m.: It wasn’t cuddling!

Ben: 8:21 a.m.: We just happened to pass out on the couch together

Ben: 8:21 a.m.: And it somehow looked like cuddling from the other side of the room.

Joe: 8:22 a.m.: It was a little cuddly. You were sleeping with your head on my ass.

Ben: 8:22 a.m.: Hip. …. doesn’t help my case here. It wasn’t cuddling!

Rami: 8:23 a.m.: I really wish I was spending the morning with all of you instead of on this train.

Joe, 8:24 a.m.: We wish it too, Rami!

Ben, 8:24 a.m.: Yeah, same.

Gwil, 8:25 a.m.: Don’t worry. We saved you a cuppa. Come back soon!

 

Rami couldn’t help but smile at the image as it came in, showing Joe and Gwil’s kitchen counter with a coffee maker and two cups of coffee sitting in wait. He knew that the boys hadn’t actually saved him a cup of coffee, but it was nice of them to pretend.

Text Group: The Band  
Rami, 8:30 a.m.: Thanks, boys. You’re the best. I’ll be done today around 2:00 if anyone’s  
around.

 

Gwil, 8:31 a.m.: Somebody will be around. I’m sure.

 

Rami still had another few minutes before he made it to Berklee, so he spent his time reviewing his notes from class and preparing to spend an hour and a half with Dr. Singer. Rami wished he could transfer mentor teachers, but he figured he’d tough it out as long as he could. He’d dealt with worse teachers before, he could handle this guy.

 

Thirty minutes later, Rami sat alone in the practice studio. His practice with Singer was meant to start twenty minutes earlier, yet the man was nowhere to be found. Rami had gone first to the practice studio, then to the man’s office, and finally back to the practice studio where he was doing some vocal warm-ups and practicing some of the songs the “Fat Bottom Girls” had been talking about periodically.

His fingers ran over the keys as he softly sang Love of My Life. He wasn’t singing with any of the showmanship he usually performed with, but instead was singing intimately to no one.

“Love of my life, love of my life. Oooh, yeah.” He sang, flourishing a bit at the end with the piano.

A clap sounded from the back of the room where the doorway was, it was slow. If a clap could be sarcastic, this was it. Rami turned to look at the man standing in the doorway. Of course it was the man he had been waiting on for the last twenty minutes finally deciding to grace Rami with his presence.

“Oh, well done.” Singer said, still clapping but slowly walking into the room. His voice was dripping with disdain, and the swagger gave Rami all the notice that he needed that Bryan Singer was in a foul mood. “Well done indeed. Not only are you late for practice, you’re playing this bullshit and wasting my time.”

“Late for—?”

“Don’t.” Singer spit. “Interrupt me.” Rami sat up a little straighter as Singer came closer to him. When the other man was only a few feet away, Rami could see just how intensely he was looking at him. Instinctively, his eyes shifted away and rested on a spot on the floor just to the right of Singer’s feet.

“As I was saying. You’re late, and wasting my time.” He paused for just a moment. “Stand up.”

Rami stood.

“Do your scales. Now.”

Rami began to sing the scales he had already warmed up with. Had he not already practiced, he’d have missed the notes as Singer didn’t even offer a single tonal sound for him to prepare.

“Drop an octave.” Rami did. And when Singer asked for him to practice an octave above he did that as well. All the while, Rami was essentially on his own as Singer set up the piano to play while Rami sang.

“You’ve been working on Vitellia, correct?” Singer asked. Rami had been practicing Vitellia, but it hadn’t been the one he’d been working on exclusively. He gave a half-hearted nod, knowing he wasn’t prepared for it as much as Singer would demand of him.

“We’ll start with that then.” And Singer launched into play.

 

It was an agonizing hour and a half of Bryan Singer lambasting him at every turn. If he hit a note perfectly, Singer would turn around a moment later and demand he do it again, but better. It was difficult, and challenging, and by then end Rami wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or if he wanted to hide in a hole and never use his voice again.

Rami and Singer were still in the studio together; Rami was slowly packing his things up so Singer would leave before him and not see him scurry out and into the nearest bathroom where he could take a few minute breather.

“You know I only push you so hard because I believe you could be one of the best students in the school, right?” Singer said, after several long moments of silence.

Rami paused and looked up at the man. He’d drawn a newsboy cap over his head and had his things gathered in his arms to leave. Rami didn’t say anything, and the man nodded and left the room without another word.

 

 

Two-o’clock finally rolled around, and Rami was finally back in Allston. He was over at Gwil and Joe’s apartment, and having a cup of coffee with Gwil. Rami had been right that the original pot of coffee from that morning was gone, but Gwil had prepared a fresh batch just for Rami. The other man even went as far as pouring the cup and doctoring it for the other man. To say Rami was smitten would be an understatement.

“He really said that?” Gwil asked, handing the cup with just a little sugar and cream to the other man. “After all the shit he pulled after walking into the practice twenty minutes late?”

“Yeah.” Rami said, taking a sip of the coffee and smiling. It was perfect. Gwil made a face like he was upset about something, and Rami nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know how to take it either. On the one hand, it would be great to be one of the best trained musicians at the school, but on the other hand—what the fuck?”

“I’m really sorry he was a complete dick to you. I’m really glad I haven’t got him this semester, or I feel like I’d need to rough him up a bit.”

Rami’s eyes widened just a little bit and a soft smile crept over his face. This was perhaps one of the first times that a guy had offered to go to battle for him, and Rami couldn’t help but feel a little patter of butterfly wings settle lightly in his chest. He ducked his head and tapped it on Gwil’s shoulder, and Gwil smiled fondly at Rami as well.

“Thanks.” Rami said after he sat back up. Rami and Gwil locked eyes, both somewhat uncertain about what exactly it was that was going to happen next, but eager and curious to see that the other felt similarly.

“You have the most gorgeous eyes.” Gwil said softly.

A slow smile crawled over Rami’s face, and he leaned in slowly—in part because he had never even actually asked Gwilym what his sexuality was, and wanted to offer an out if the other man wasn’t interested. But Rami thought he was reading this right. He was rewarded when Gwil leaned in too. Rami placed his coffee on the coffee table in front of him.

Just as their eyes fluttered closed and their lips were about to touch, a loud, primal scream and the slam of a door startled the two men from their position. Gwil’s coffee sloshed up and splattered against his stomach. It was still hot, and Rami could see Gwil flinch uncomfortably.  
“OH SHIT SORRY!” Came a voice from the entryway to the living room. “I didn’t know anyone was here!” Joe had come in and covered his mouth out of awkwardness at finding Rami and Gwilym sitting on the couch and Gwil’s coffee covering his shirt.

“It’s no problem, mate.” Gwil said, picking his shirt off of his stomach and standing slowly.

“Why the fuck were you screaming like that?” Rami asked, his hand on his chest and his eyes wide.

“Oh. He sometimes just does it.” Gwil said, calmly. “It’s not uncommon just to hear a random scream throughout the apartment.”

“Jesus. And what do your neighbors say?”

“I try to keep it to when most people are working.” Joe said with a little blush. “And then if they do hear they can’t often pinpoint where it’s coming from.”

“We were once asked at the mail boxes if we’d heard the velociraptors very frequently, too.”

“And what did you say?”

“‘Oh, from time to time. But they seem pretty harmless.’”

Rami closed his eyes and shook his head with a little laugh. “Joseph Mazzello.”

“The Third.” Joe said with a nod.

“I’m going to change.” Gwil said, walking into his bedroom.

Rami was disappointed that the moment between he and Gwil was gone, but he still had to laugh at Joe’s ridiculousness.

 

The girl was cute; really cute. She had this short blonde hair and her style of dress was unique but fashionable at the same time. The pattern of the dress looked a little like a curtain, but Rami knew that the curtain patterns were “in” these days. A part of him wished that she hadn’t been so cute, just so he could dislike her a little bit more.

She and Gwil had apparently been out on a date, and her best friend, Ben, had no clue that the two knew each other already. Rami was jealous at just how animated she and Gwilym were when they were talking to each other.

Rami could hear Ben whisper to Joe, though his voice was too deep to whisper effectively, “Had I known, I wouldn’t have brought her.”

Rami pursed his lips and walked over to the piano. “Are we practicing or not?” He said, perhaps a tad more harshly than he had intended. “We’ve only got two hours reserved tonight.” He softened his tone in the hopes that none of the others would sense his agitation.

“I’ll just… go over here and listen.” The blonde said with a beaming smile at Gwil.

Gwil was beaming at her just as much.

“Let’s start with Liar.” Rami suggested, looking directly at Gwil. Gwil nodded, seeming to understand the message Rami was sending with his song choice.

Rami sang passionately throughout the song, looking at Gwil each time he screamed liar. At the end Lucy stood up to cheer.

“That was incredible, guys!” She shouted. “Simply incredible!”

“Thanks, Luce.” Ben said softly, twirling his drumsticks.

“Glad you liked it,” Gwil said with a smile, but shifting an awkward look to Rami at the same time.

“Why don’t we work on some more of the more familiar ones to us, Ben and Rami, so we can get Gwil up to speed before we work on anything else new?” Joe said, tuning the sound on his amp to make sure the bass was coming out right.

“That would be really appreciated.” Gwil said, tuning his guitar as he had noticed one of the notes was slightly off.

“Alright,” Rami said, turning back to the piano. He didn’t miss the smile Gwil shot Lucy as they moved into playing more familiar songs, and let Gwil get into the hang of playing like Brian May.

 

 

Ben and Lucy had headed back to the dorms in the city, and Joe was taking a run before trying to settle down for the night. Rami and Gwil were on their own as Gwil walked with Rami back to his apartment.

The night was chilly; winter was around the corner. Early winter was always one of Rami’s favorite seasons, right between Thanksgiving and Christmas. That time of year always symbolized so much hope and joy for him—it wasn’t that time of year yet, but with the sun setting earlier and earlier, Rami couldn’t help but feel a little pull of excitement that it would come soon.

“You know I could have made it to my apartment on my own.” Rami said, perhaps just a touch defensively. Though he was happy about the falling night and having winter come soon, he was still irritated at Gwil for not telling him that he was seeing someone. Even if it had only been one date.

“I know, but I wanted to talk to you.” Rami turned his head toward Gwil just slightly to indicate that he was listening, though not happy about it.

“I wasn’t mistaken, was I, that there was something more between us about to happen before Joe went dinosaur and interrupted us earlier?”

Rami slowed his walk and let out a “No,” before turning to look at Gwil with a little bit of a pout. “You weren’t mistaken.”

Gwil nodded, and stuffed his hands in his pocket. “I’m not sure how to… well. I’m bisexual.”

Rami turned to look at him and pursed his lips together, “I gathered.”

“And I’m poly.”

Rami fully stoped at this point, and Gwil took a couple extra steps before he realized that Rami wasn’t walking with him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just mean… I practice ethical, consensual non-monogamy, and that’s really important to me.”

Rami had heard of polyamory before, especially having been in the queer community for long enough, but had never actually met anyone or dated anyone who practiced it before. “What does that look like?”

“I suppose it differs for every couple, but mainly, it’s dating multiple people, loving multiple people, while having the knowledge, acceptance, and consent of all parties involved. Sometimes the other partners are also involved and sometimes they’re not.”

“It’s a literal love triangle, then.”

“It can be.” Gwil laughed, “Or a quadrangle. Or octagon, if you’re that adventurous.”

The corner Rami’s mouth tilted up into a smirk, and Gwil took a couple steps closer. “I like you, Rami.” His voice was low, and husky. Rami could really feel the height distance here. His head only came up to Gwil’s shoulder and he had to tilt his head back to look into Gwil’s eyes.

He knew that Gwil also liked Lucy, but… he wanted this. He wanted this with Gwil, and he didn’t want to hesitate and lose out on something that could be incredible with a man who was incredible simply because it wasn’t something he was familiar with already. His family was Coptic and his parents had been married for many years with neither taking another partner (and Rami was pretty certain that they were literal about never having loved another). This idea of “ethical non-monogamy” was really new, but he’d worry about figuring it out later. Much later.

“I like you too,” he whispered before wrapping his arms around Gwil’s neck and standing on his tiptoes to place a kiss on Gwil’s lips. Gwil’s arm wrapped around Rami’s waist, and the two kissed softly for a long moment.

Both men were aware that they were still on the street, and their kiss broke before it heated to something that would be considered indecent in any other community. With Gwil’s arm still around his waist, Rami relaxed down and placed his forehead on Gwil’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you home,” Gwil said, licking his lips and guiding Rami the remaining blocks to his apartment. Both men were excited to really get to know each other better.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters herein are based upon real people, but are not meant to be comparable to his, her, or their likeness in any way beyond name, salient personality traits, and general appearance. This is not a true story in any way, though there is some supposition pulled from true events as gathered by interviews and social media. Is this the real life? No, this is just fantasy.


End file.
